


Actuate; Destiny's Pending

by Ashenious



Series: You-In-Verse (The Witcher) [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Following Storyline, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Multi-shipping, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, So that everyone's a winner, complete self indulgence, in this house we post sporadically, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashenious/pseuds/Ashenious
Summary: Reader is from another world, and is suddenly in the Witcher's world.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg/Reader
Series: You-In-Verse (The Witcher) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623916
Comments: 24
Kudos: 230





	1. Go

Where did your bed go? You could have sworn you had just felt it, its soft and warm quilted touch now replaced with the feeling of cold and dusty below you. The cold could have been explained by someone pouring water on you, but if water had been dumped on you, then the dust factor wouldn’t have been possible. Had you slept walked outside and laid down in a pile of snow like you had that one time long ago? Snow and dusty were very distinctly different, however, and the feeling of snow wasn’t crumbly and made you want to hop in the nearest shower to immediately remove it from yourself.

Opening your eyes, a pleasant view of the sky greeted you, the stars above glistening brightly and the distinctions of the galaxy perfectly clear to you like you had never seen before. Or it would have been a pleasant view had you remembered falling asleep outside and not in your bed. Seeing the sky confirmed your suspicions of what you were feeling as you had awoken: dirt. Dusty, loose dirt to be exact, and dragging your fingers through it as you sat up only made you feel more disgusting. Where was your bed? Where had your room gone? Where did you go?

The surrounding area wasn’t familiar at all, and you dazedly turned your head around to take in all the trees that were growing around the path you were sitting on. The area wasn’t one you were familiar with, and if you had been more awake in the moment, you would have been more concerned about this fact. Your mind was more focused on finding your bed however, and as you continued to turn about the area, slowly sliding yourself up onto your knees as you looked to the area behind you, you wondered what could have happened to you in order for you to have been moved off of your bed without noticing.

The leaves of the trees around you brushed against each other and their branches gently, the scratching of the soft fibers filling the air around you as you finally pushed yourself to your feet having accepted that there was nothing around you that looked even relatively familiar. Besides the moon anyway. Glancing up at it, the moon looked no different than it had the last time you had looked at it, and it’s bright, reflected light gently illuminated the tops of the trees and the dirt road you stood on. It was still near impossible to see anything, and details of the trees and rocks on the road were invisible to your eyes, but the shine of the moon accompanying the galaxies that wove together behind it made for a scene that you couldn’t help but admire for a second.

Turning your gaze back down, a flicker of light caught your attention, and drew your gaze in immediately amongst the trees. Noticing not 1 but 2 of the lights, both sitting just behind the line of trees and just about halfway up them, you felt yourself tense. The lights sat still, unmoving as they fixated on you. You didn’t want to remove yourself from them, your body tense and your breath caught in your throat as the orbs continued to stare you down.

‘An owl?’ you thought to yourself. It was the only thing that made sense. The eyes weren’t blinking, they weren’t moving, and they were sitting amongst the leaves. You weren’t an ornithologist by any stretch of the imagination, but you knew that owls preferred rodents and other birds, both of which were something you were not. Even still, the unblinking eyes that also refused to move unsettled you, and you finally slowly released your held breath as you momentarily glanced to each of your sides, hoping to see any changes in the world. Nothing had changed, however, and you sighed lightly as you returned to look at the eyes again.

They hadn’t moved, and you doubt they had blinked in the few seconds you had looked away, a thought that only made you feel more unsettled. It was only a moment after you had turned back to them that they moved closer a hop. And then another. And then another.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a step back, and as the eyes finally reached the barrier of the trees, you couldn’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath as the outline of fur around the eyes was illuminated by the moon’s light. And attached to that fur was a pointed snout.

The creature’s paw came out from the darkness of the tree’s shadows and placed it fingers around the front-most one, its nails growing sharp and slicing through the bark as it grabbed the whole base. Watching the pieces of the bark fall down to the ground, you couldn’t stop yourself from putting your hands up as you stepped back again, this time finding it hard to place your foot down firmly as your entire body was shaking. You weren’t sure when you had started to shake, but your entire body rattled in fear, your fingertips and toes completely numb and your legs and arms threatening to join them as you tried again to step back.

The creature before you finally emerged fully from the trees, its height both impressive and absolutely terrifying to you as the top of its ears brushed against the leaf line. As it stepped toward you once more, your legs finally gave out, the feeling of fear finally pushing them to go completely numb and you fell backwards onto the dusty ground.

You tried to keep your hands up as you fell but found yourself needing them to hold yourself up right on the ground to keep your eyes on the canine-looking monster before you. You didn’t want to look away from the creature, knew you shouldn’t look away from it, but as the creature drew nearer to you, you slammed your eyes shut, completely accepting that you absolutely didn’t want to know what was coming.

Hearing the steps draw closer, you tried to focus on your breathing, your breaths erratic as they left you. Despite your best efforts, you breaths remained rapid and loud, making it hard to hear the steps of the monster as it neared you. Sucking in a sharp breath immediately after you heard the loudest step by far, you waited, wondering if the creature was getting ready to attack.

You wait. And waited.

Feeling your body scream to release your breath, you shakily let it out, confused as to what the giant beast was doing that was taking so long. Reaching one of your hands up, you placed it over your mouth lightly, hoping to help slow your breaths as you very slightly opened your eyes to see what was happening.

Before you stood the creature, it’s body still tall and threatening just before you, and its claws sharp and out, ready to strike at you, but a top of the body was no head. Blinking at the sight, your hand moved down from your mouth as you stared at the headless creature, your eyes unable to remove themselves from the bleeding stump of the creature’s now headless neck.

“Even after the village mob agreed to stay away, there’s still one,” The sudden voice caused you to jump, your hand flying down to the ground as you tried to move away from the beast before you. Your arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate, however, and you just slid them against the ground rapidly, causing bits of dirt and grass to dust the air around you as you did so.

From behind the monster a man appeared, his eyes as bright as the monsters and his hair just as strikingly light, and you slowly stopped trying to move yourself on the ground as he stepped around the beast. As he got closer, you could see the line of blood that was strewn up his body, its source leading from the blade he was wielding in his hand. You tried to say something to the man, at the very least make a noise at him, but found your throat unable to do much past let you breathe, which it was doing too quickly and too harshly for your liking.

The man just stared at you, a couple of drops of blood falling to the ground from his sword as no words were said between you and he. After a few moments of silence, you moved yourself a bit to the side and looked beyond the monster body, to where the man had appeared from. Upon the ground, its eyes still staring at you, was the head of the beast, a site that instantly made your stomach churn. Your hand quickly returned to your mouth, as if to try to stop your stomach from inverting itself in the moment.

* * *

The next moment of clarity for you was a complete absence of site, and as you stared at the black covering your world, you wondered how and when you had lost consciousness. The black around you persisted for a few moments, and as it finally began to fade away, the rest of your body began to sense things around you. Your ears picked up the sound of fire crackling, something that alarmed you, and as you smelled the burning of wood, you felt your fear grow more.

You tried to quickly open your eyes, something that proved hard to do as they were heavy and uncooperative. Persisting, you finally opened them slightly, just enough to see that you were in a room that was almost as dark as behind your eyes. You felt your throat pull tight for a moment from anxiety and you gulped as you tried to relax it. The taste of your stomach contents finally hit you, however, and you let out a loud noise of displeasure as you threw yourself up to sitting, your hand once again uselessly attempting to stop your body by covering your mouth.

“If you’re going to throw up again, lean this way,” jumping at the voice, you recognized it immediately and threw your head over to see the man who had emerged from behind the beast you could only faintly remember in the moment. He was no longer covered in blood, and he was sitting in a chair just to your right looking very casual for someone whom you presumed had just killed a beast that towered at over 8 feet easily. “The floor or the bucket is a better place than the blanket on you,” he spoke again. Slowly lowering your hand from your mouth as you felt your stomach settle for a second, you tried to gather words. Failing to do so, you just stared at the man, your mouth agape and your hand hovering near your face. The man returned the stare for a moment before he reached over to the table nearby and grabbed a tankard off of it. “Here, to rinse the taste out of your mouth.”

“…Thank…you,” you replied hesitantly. Reaching over, the man handed you the tankard, and you peeked inside it for a moment. Seeing just water, you took a swig and spat it out into the bucket that sat just off of the side of where you were sitting. Handing the cup back to the man, he set it down on the table before turning back to you again. “Where…who…” you tried to say as you looked around the room. Bringing your hand down finally, you shook your head out for a moment before you tried again. “Where am I? Who are you? What… happened?”

“Kagen. Geralt of Rivia. What do you remember?” came the man’s curt response. Given any other situation, you would have found the man’s short responses off-putting, but as you still felt panic inside of you, the short responses were actually welcome.

“Where the hell is Kagen? And all I remember is…” pausing for a moment, you tried you hardest to remember everything that had happened. You found it hard to remember everything after you had woken up on the ground, and your memory was spotty from when you were still in front of the beast. You explained to the man all that you remembered, and as you finished, he hummed a noise of confirmation before looking away from you and toward the fire that was burning nearby. Following his eyes, you also turned and watched the fire, the wood within it keeping it high and the heat from it a welcome feeling on your face. Taking a second, you took a breath in and finally introduced yourself to the man.

“Kagen is due East of Cintra,” the man said as he continued to look at the fire. For a few moments he said nothing before he turned to face you. “I gather you aren’t from here. I was hired to take care of that werewolf by the people here. Where do you hail?”

“We-Werewolf? Cintra? Where… Wait, hold on a second,” Bringing your hands up, you rested you head in them for a second as you thought. Having no idea where any place called Cintra was near your home, you lifted your head and looked at the man again. “You…you said a werewolf? Like, ‘a man turned into a wolf on the full moon’ werewolf? Those aren’t real!” Turning away from the man, you looked down again, finally realizing you were lacking the clothes you had been wearing before. “And where are my clothes?”

“You threw up on them, and so they are being cleaned,” the man said as he stood up. Letting your gaze follow the man as he walked over to the fire, you watched as he tossed in another piece of firewood, causing a bit of smoke to puff up from the fire. Glancing down a moment, you hesitantly pulled the blanket over you more, not sure what to do in the moment. “You must be from far away, to have not heard of Cintra.”

“I…I guess so,” was all you said. You glanced around the room, finally taking notice of the wooden interior. The room looked old, its walls completely wooden and the flooring as well. As you let your eyes run along the walls, each lacking any decorations at all, you finally noticed the lack of electrical outlets, and electricity powered items.

Geralt, so the man was called, returned from the fire and sat himself back down in the chair, his eyes turning back to you once again. You met his gaze for a moment, before you moved your eyes past him to look outside. You hesitated for a second, a thousand questions still running through your mind before you told him the name of your hometown. Geralt made a small noise of confirmation again, and he slowly reached behind him and into his bag you hadn’t noticed before. From his bag he pulled a paper, and as he unfolded it, you realized it was a map.

“I don’t know where that town is,” he said as he completely unfolded the worn paper. “Show me where it’s at.” Glancing down at the map, you let your eyes wander it for a moment. You felt like you weren’t able to read for a second, as the map was unlike one you had ever seen before. Feeling a tight knot in your chest, you huffed out a breath and tried to look over the map again.

It was well worn, and it was hand drawn, something you found impressive for how detailed it was. You wondered if Geralt was the person who had drawn the whole thing, but you quickly shook the thought from your head as you spotted a name that was familiar to you. Reaching your hand up, you placed your finger on the one city you knew: Cintra.

“…You said you hadn’t heard of Cintra,” Geralt stated simply, his tone unamused.

“I hadn’t…It’s the only name I recognize now because you told me it, though…” Pulling your hand away from the map, you looked up to Geralt. He was giving you a look that you weren’t sure what it meant, and after a moment he began to fold his map away.

“Hm.”

“Hm?” Geralt slowly placed his map back in his bag, and as he turned back to look at you, he sighed lightly.

“You aren’t from the continent then, it seems,” he said. Nodding at the statement, you waited for him to continue. “Which is why you were out on the night of the full moon, because you hadn’t heard of werewolves.”

“Okay, werewolves aren’t…they’re not supposed to be real!” you replied, a bit of frustration in your voice. “At least, in my world they aren’t…” Geralt raised his eyebrow as your voice trailed off, and you felt yourself slouch down a bit into the bed you were on. You sighed lightly, and your fingers began to play with the ends of the blanket as you kept quiet and tried to think.

Your brain was rattling with questions, each one bouncing in your mind with no answer in sight, and each one allowing a bit of fear to run through you. Where were you? Kagen, Geralt had said, but where the hell is Kagen? It’s east of Cintra, Geralt had told you, but where in the world was Cintra? It was on the continent, Geralt had mentioned passively, but which one? There were 7 last time you checked (there could have been as little as 4 depending on who you asked too), and you didn’t have any plans to leave the one you fell asleep on.

“…Tomorrow then,” hearing the quiet voice, you were pulled from your thoughts abruptly, and you had to stop yourself from making a rude noise at Geralt. “We will find you a place to go until you can return to where you came from.”

“I…” Pausing for a moment, you looked over Geralt, completely confused at what was happening. The man didn’t say anything more, and you turned away from his to look at the blanket over you once again. Feeling your eyes move down, you realized you were still tired, your eyelids heavy and wanting to close completely. “…Tomorrow then,” you muttered quietly as you slowly sank down onto the bed.

You pulled the blanket over your head completely, something that Geralt had to keep himself from snorting at, but you turned on your side under the warmth. You hesitated as you lay in the bed, unsure of if you wanted to trust Geralt, but as you were completely overtaken by sleep, you let your body decide for you.

* * *

“There are…so many horses.”

“Yes, they are how people travel.”

You had decided that not only was the world you were in not your own, but it was also a world that was far behind yours in time. The streets of Kagen, the rather tiny town you were walking through, was littered with people in old style clothing; no one was wearing any clothing that had very many bright colours on them, most, if not all, the women were wearing dresses and long skirts, and many of the people who were walking about were covered in dirt and mud and other possible brown substances, something you couldn’t help but make a face at.

Geralt had made you abandon your own clothing in favor of some that matched the people’s around you, something you had protested originally as you rather liked your clothes. But as you followed behind the man toward where he had had said his horse was tied at, you knew that he was right in making you dawn a new set of clothing as you would have stuck out to every person should you have chosen to walk the streets in your more modern attire.

You weren’t upset with the clothes you were given; you were just unsure of the feel of them. They were far different than what you were used to, the fit and fabric of them more rough and rigid than you liked typically. Maybe it was because they were new, or maybe it was because the fabric they were made of was a fabric that didn’t exist in your world and you were too unfamiliar with it. It was a silly thought, but you knew anything was possible as apparently werewolves were real in this world.

Despite being in rather typical looking clothes of the time, you noticed that people were still keeping their eyes on you, something that made the pit in your chest grow each time you noticed another person doing it. It was as you and Geralt were passing by a pub, the second one you had seen in such a tiny town, that you met eyes with someone directly. As they looked at you directly, their face changed to one full of concern, and you were thoroughly confused. Looking up at Geralt, and then back to the person, the person merely shook their head at you and turned themselves around to face away from you.

“’Ey! Witch’r!” Hearing the voice, your eyes went to the source of it, and as you looked the very drunk man up and down, he held his tankard out to you. “Why’st your company so far behind ya!? They the pup o’ the werewolf you butchered yeste’day?”

“Witcher…?” Walking closer to Geralt’s side, you gave him a very confused look. The man merely shook his head and continued walking past the pub. “What’s a Witcher?” you asked quietly.

“I’m a Witcher,” Geralt said as if the answer to your question was so obvious.

“O…kay?” You wanted to ask more, wanted to ask what exactly a witcher was, but as you looked around the town and saw more eyes on Geralt after the man had called out to him, you decided that the subject was best dropped for the moment. Sighing lightly, you turned back to Geralt before asking, “Where are we going, Geralt?”

“We are going to find someone who knows where you’re from,” Geralt replied, his head turning a bit as he looked down at you. “Some mage around must have a clue where you’re from and how to return you.”

“Mage?! Like, a magic mage?! Is there magic in this world?” you asked louder than you intended to. Seeing a few people now staring at you, you felt your face heat up a bit and you quickly put one of your hands over your mouth. “I-I mean…Sounds like a plan!”

“Hm.”

“Can you use magic?” you asked suddenly.

“Some.”

“Oh, I so need to see this!” you grinned, a small hop in your step as you walked beside Geralt to where he was leading you. The man was giving you an odd look, one that clearly showed he was a bit amused at what you were doing, but he didn’t say anything. “We don’t have magic where I’m from,” you explained quietly so that only Geralt could hear. “Closest thing we’ve got would be chemistry stuff, but I never understood all that.”

You continued to talk as Geralt lead you out of town, the man hardly saying anything as you continued to talk about your excitement to see magic. It was only when Geralt stopped next to a horse just outside the walls of the town, one that proceeded to bump its head into his chest, that you finally stopped talking.

“This your horse?” you asked as you watched Geralt untie the horse’s reigns from the fence it was tied to. Geralt merely nodded at you as he looped the reigns around his hand. “What’s her name?”

“Roach.”

“That’s…a name alright,” you said as you made a slight face. Geralt merely hummed lightly before he began to walk again, and you quickly stepped forward to keep on pace with the man. “Hey, since we’re out of town now, can I ask you what a witcher is? I mean, what exactly a witcher is.”

“A mutant,” you furrowed your face at the response and wanted to ask him to elaborate on the answer, but you waited a second for Geralt to continue. “We’re mutants for hire. We take coin, we slay monsters, we leave.”

“Oh, like a mercenary almost? And you were hired to kill that werewolf, then right?” Hearing a hum of confirmation, you felt your lips purse a bit. “That drunk back in the town didn’t sound very thankful to you…”

“Thanks isn’t part of the job.”

“It should be!” Geralt couldn’t help but give you an odd look, and you couldn’t stop yourself from going on a tangent. “You took out a werewolf! A bloody werewolf! And one that didn’t look very nice, might I add! That thing was massive, and I bet its claws could have taken out anyone in one swipe! They should be showering you with praise, hell, make you their mayor probably! You saved countless people I bet! And their livestock too! But they’re gonna mock you as you’re leaving?” You paused a second to huff. “People are ungrateful no matter what world they’re in, huh?”

“Uh… yeah.” The look Geralt was giving you was still one that was unreadable, but you merely smiled a bit at him.

“Hey, if this world is so dangerous, can you teach me how to fight with a sword?” Still Geralt’s face read an unreadable expression, and still you grinned at him. “We don’t sword fight where I’m from, but I would love to learn. A-And I think it’d be smart to do in case something happens, and I need to defend you.”

“You won’t need to defend me,” Geralt said simply, his eyes finally leaving you and returning to the road in front of him.

“But, and listen to this, what if I do? What if a…I don’t know, a zombie raises up and you’re caught off guard?” Geralt sighed as you spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Hopefully zombies aren’t real here, that would make this world way more dangerous. What kinds of monsters have you fought before?”

“You don’t stop talking ever, do you?”

“Nope! Makes travelling way better if I keep going,” you paced forward a few steps, and turned on your heel to face Geralt. You put your arms behind your back as you proceeded to walk backwards in front of the man. “What’s the biggest monster you’ve ever fought, Geralt?”

You weren’t sure where Geralt was taking you, you weren’t even sure what direction you were travelling in, but as you kept walking, you could slowly feel the bit of fear that still lingered in you fade away. What was to happen was unknown to you, but that wasn’t very much different than before when you were in your world. Thinking about what could happen, of what dangers could appear before you, made the fear linger about again for a second, but you pushed it down, instead thinking forward to the experiences this world was going to show you that you would never be able to experience back in your world.


	2. And

“Where even are we, Roach? I feel like we’d walked for days, with nothing in sight but open field and more path, and now we’re suddenly…somewhere.” Hearing only a snort from the horse, you sighed lightly and let your hand run through her mane gently. “Yeah, Geralt’s really good at finding tavern’s anywhere, isn’t he?” Patting Roach on the side of her neck gently, you turned and made your way to the tavern at the end of the world.

It had been half of a decade since you had landed on the continent, half of a decade of travelling around from city to city, village to village, in search of a mage – hell, anyone really – who had even the faintest clue as to how to send you back to your world. It was hard to search for information as it wasn’t possible to just put up posters asking for information as safety was your’s and Geralt’s number 1 priority.

Maybe if you didn’t have to worry about people turning and mobbing against you for being a dangerous magic user from a different world, you’d have gone to each person in all the places you had visited and asked each of them if they knew anything. If you were capable of even using magic, the idea of a mob turning against you wouldn’t have been so scary, but a magic user you were not, and so you had to settle for the sword fighting skills you had learned from Geralt over the years as your means of defense. Your skills wouldn’t save you in a mob of angry villagers, but it had saved you from being killed once or twice in your travels. 

It was rough in the beginning, learning to use a sword and to defend yourself, and it had taken a long time of training with Geralt before you were even comfortable with your skills. Geralt didn’t go easy on you, his methods of training were harsh and grueling, and at times it felt like the man was just bullying you whilst you trained.

But the first time you were able to successfully ‘take down’ the unarmed man, you knew that you could defend yourself from most anything that came at you. Although your ‘take down’ of the man only meant you had scratched him on the cheek ever so slightly with your sword, but it was more than enough for Geralt as most people would never even be able to get close enough to him in a fight for him to even cut off a piece of his hair.

You wanted to strive to take down the Witcher even while he was armed and not just toying with you, but you knew that that was nearly impossible. Once Geralt finally saw you as your own force, one that he didn’t need to look after every time something happened, you still insisted on training with him often, your drive to fight having changed from a want to defend yourself in the dangerous world to a relationship of mutual respect toward the Witcher as a fellow sword fighter.

Geralt teased you often with the dream that you could take him down when he was armed only if he had been poisoned, but you pushed off that idea every time, telling the man you’d take him down when he was unharmed in anyway, and armed to the teeth. He’d always chuckle at the dream, and always tell you he looked forward to that day.

The mages around the continent were less than helpful each time you and Geralt would meet with them, each of them completely blown away at the idea of another world and each of them wanting to try something new on you to see if there were any lingering effects of the other world on you. One wanted to keep you under observation for an extended period of time to see if any magic would come off of you that you hadn’t noticed before, something both you and Geralt adamantly declined to do, and one had wanted to try their hand teaching you how to use magic.

Geralt was more pleased with this idea, as he had told you in passing that you had ‘smelled of magic’ (whatever that means) when he first found you, and so it was possible that you were a magic user who just needed proper instruction. It had failed miserably, however, and you only felt like you had wasted a week of your time in attempting to do something you were not made for. By the end of the week, you and Geralt had chalked up the ‘smell of magic’ on you when you first entered the world as nothing more than a side effect of whatever magic brought you into the world.

Mage after mage had an idea of what to do with you, and by the time you had met the 7th one, your patience was running thin and you no longer wished to meet with mages. It had been 2 years since you had decided to no longer meet any mages, and you had been travelling with Geralt and Roach since. More of a tag-along than anything, you helped the Witcher with some of the jobs he was hired to do, often times just being around to be an extra set of hands should something, or someone, need to be grabbed and held. It wasn’t a great life, but more often than not you were sleeping in an inn than outside, and you were perfectly content with that.

Travelling with Geralt had led you to Parvo, or Pasadena, or wherever the hell it was you were currently. Getting information out of Geralt was like trying to extract a tooth from a young werewolf sometimes, and the man had only mentioned the name of the tavern’s location in passing once. As you held open the door for a bunch of drunk men on your way into the pub, one of them shouted out about the beauty of Posada being ruined by a pest. Right, that was the name of the place.

Stepping into the pub, it smelt of strong ale, stale bread, and flattened dreams, something you weren’t sure you were happy with. It wasn’t the worst smelling place you had ever been, but it was far from the best. At least the smell of ale was promising. Closing the door behind you gently, you stepped forward into the bar, ignoring the eyes that glanced at you with passing judgement as you looked about the room for your favourite angry man with white hair.

“Come on. You don’t want to keep a man with… bread in his pants waiting.” Following the sound of an awful pick-up line, you were surprised to see the line being delivered to a rather unamused looking Geralt by a rather young looking, colourfully dressed character. Chuckling a bit at the scene, you slowly walked toward the table where Geralt was sat at. Watching as the young man before him slowly slid his way into the chair across from the Witcher, you stopped yourself by a pillar nearby and leaned on it lightly to watch the pair. “You must have a review for me. Three words of less,” the stranger said as he placed his cup on the table.

Glancing around the room, you spotted a chair that was surrounded by pieces of discarded bread, and near by was a lute that was stood upright against the wall. Turning back to the man, and then again to the instrument, you assumed it belonged to him, and as you once again turned to look at the man who was still pestering Geralt, you caught a glance the Witcher tossed at you. Bringing your hand up and holding it over your mouth, you tried your best not to laugh at what you were seeing before you.

“They don’t exist,” Geralt finally said after the man across from him had been staring at him for a couple of seconds in anticipation.

“What don’t exist?” the man asked, his face full of confusion.

“The creatures in your songs.”

“What creatures was he singing of?” you asked suddenly. Both Geralt and the man across from him turned to look at you, and as you removed your hand from over your mouth, you gently kicked out a chair from a nearby table toward the table where the pair were sat at. Reaching down and grabbing the chair, you looked between the 2 men as you sat yourself down with them.

“Drakes, and the pike,” Geralt said simply as he lifted his tankard up.

“Drakes aren’t real? And pikes aren’t either?” you asked lightly, knowing full well Geralt wasn’t going to answer.

“And how would you know?” the stranger asked at Geralt. You turned and looked over to the man, watching as he fidgeted with a piece of bread in his hands while he looked Geralt up and down for a moment before he spoke again. “Oh, fun. White hair… big, old loner. Two very…very scary swords.” Turning back to Geralt again, you looked past him and toward his swords that he had tried to hide beside him. Sighing lightly, you and Geralt exchanged a look before you turned back to the stranger again. “I know who you are.”

Geralt didn’t wait but one second before he was removing himself from his chair, his swords pulled in tow closely as he turned toward the pub entrance. Reaching forward, you pulled the tankard of ale closer to you and peeked inside. It was completely empty, something you frowned at as you were hoping to have a little bit to drink while you were stopped for the day. Pushing the tankard back to the table, you spun around on your chair and slowly climbed to your feet. Next to you, the colourfully dressed man did the same thing, but he paced himself toward Geralt just before you began to move, his arm wrapping around the pillar you had been leaning against not but 2 minutes prior.

“You’re the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia.” The man called out to Geralt, who merely tossed a look back to him as he continued his way out of the tavern. “Called it.” Walking around the loud bard, you glanced at him for a moment, your eyes meeting his for a moment as you passed and tried to catch up to Geralt. Stepping closer to the Witcher quickly, you and he heard the scratch of a wooden chair against the wooden floor, something that stopped you both in place just before the entrance of the pub.

“A job I’ve got for you,” said the man who had made the noise. He hesitantly stepped closer to Geralt, who turned to face him, before he continued to speak, “I beg ya. A devil—he’s been stealing our grain.” Glancing up at Geralt, you waited for him to say something to the man, unsure of if he was interested in the job being offered as he was so dead set on finding a tavern to drink at earlier. “In advance, I’ll pay you. A hundred ducat.” If he wasn’t interested before, he was now, and you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as Geralt’s eyebrows rose up.

“One fifty,” Geralt replied. The man before him slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of money, which he weighed in his hand for a moment. Looking to Geralt and then to you, the man held out the bag to the Witcher, his face very serious.

“I’ve no doubt you’ll come through,” he said. “You take no prisoners, so I hear.” Taking the bag from the man, Geralt hummed lightly as he weighed the bag in his own hand. Satisfied with the feel of it, he tilted his head to the side a bit as he slid the money into his pocket. Giving you a side glance, you nodded at Geralt lightly as you turned toward the door. The witcher followed you out of the pub, and as you both made your way toward Roach, you wondered what kind of demon was known for stealing grains.

* * *

Sitting up on top of Roach while Geralt led her down the road, you had the option of turning around when you heard the sound of feet padding down on the road behind you, but you decided against it, knowing exactly what you would see if you did turn around. Instead, you continued to braid Roach’s mane, something Geralt wasn’t fond of but something Roach didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah. Need a hand? I’ve got two. One for each of the, uh, devil’s horns,” said the bard as he finally caught up to you and Geralt.

“Go away,” Geralt said flatty to the man without turning to look at him.

“Just who are you?” you asked as you gave the stranger a side glance.

“Did you forget me already? I didn’t take myself as so forgettable,” the colourfully dressed man replied with heavy snark in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ve got the memory of a child. Once something leaves my sight, I forget about it completely!” you said as you waved your hands in the air dramatically.

“Both of you, shut up,” Geralt growled back to you and the man. Lowering your hands down to Roach’s mane again, you stuck your tongue out at the Witcher who couldn’t see what you were doing toward him.

“I meant, what’s your name?” you asked quietly to the stranger still walking next to you.

“I am called Jaskier! And I won’t be but a silent back-up for you both.” The man said cheerfully. Turning to Geralt, the man spoke again, “Look, I heard your note, and, yes. You’re right, maybe real adventures would make for better stories,” Geralt still refused to look back at him even as the man named Jaskier spoke directly at him. Tying off the end of Roach’s braid, you finally turned to look at Jaskier as he continued still to speak. “And you, sir, smell chock-full of them. Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion? It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak.”

“It’s onion,” Geralt said a moment after a moment had passed in silence.

“Right, yeah. Yeah.” Jaskier continued as he adjusted the lute he was carrying on his back. “Ooh, I could be your barker! Spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the… the Butcher of Blaviken!” Geralt stopped in place at the name, and you couldn’t help but feel your face tighten a bit.

You had heard the tales of what had happened in Blaviken from people in passing over the years, people who were trying to discourage you or scare you away from the fearsome Witcher, but you never listened really believed any of their stories. Every story people told you about Geralt made him out to be a monster, someone who was ruthless and blood thirsty to no end. Having been around Geralt for long enough, you knew this was not the case, and the man was only ruthless in situations where people were in danger of being hurt.

Geralt never shared his side of the story with you, despite you asking a few times. You were endlessly curious as to what the true tale was, but each time you asked to hear his side, the man turned you down and you never pushed him to tell. His reaction, however, to each time he was called ‘the Butcher of Blaviken’ told you more than enough of what had happened and how Geralt felt about the event.

Reaching your hand down toward Geralt, the man barely looked at you as he handed Roach’s reigns over before turning to face Jaskier.

“Come here,” Geralt commanded at the bard.

“Yeah?”

Hearing the smack of a punch to the gut, you recoiled a bit and turned just in time to see Jaskier tumbling to the ground, his arms and legs fumbling about to keep himself from landing on his face. The bard struggled to quickly right himself onto his feet as Geralt turned around and reached to grabbed Roach’s reigns from you. The Witcher’s face was pulled tight, his lips drawn thin, and you only offered him a small smile as you handed over his horse to him.

“Silent back-up, huh?” you said out loud to no one in particular.

“Hm,” was the only sound the man made before he began to lead Roach down the road once again. Turning yourself around to look at Jaskier, you saw the bard slowly standing and slowly wiping off of all the dirt that was now sticking to him. Chuckling a bit, you turned back to forward and looked toward Geralt.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to drop kick him back to Posada,” you said with a light laugh.

“He isn’t worth the effort,” Hearing the light padding of feet begin behind you once again, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you glanced toward the sound.

“If you say so. You certainly attract the attention of some odd people, Geralt.”

“Reading between the lines and the gut punches, chum, I’d say you have got a bit of a… an image problem.”

“Good to see you recover quickly.” Turning about your heel and beginning to walk backwards, you looked Jaskier up and down, chuckling a bit at the pieces of dirt still stuck to his doublet from his meeting with the ground.

“Listen, listen, were I to join you both on this…feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could relieve you of that title!” The bard said as he motioned his arms around in the air. Looking up at Geralt on Roach, you could see that the man wasn’t amused about the situation, his face still pulled tight from being called the ‘Butcher of Blaviken’ not but 20 minutes prior. “All the North would be too busy singing tales of… Geralt of Rivia, the… the White Wolf! Or—or something.”

“…The White Wolf would be a pretty sweet title, actually,” you said quietly.

“Butcher is right,” Geralt stated simply.

“Oh, Geralt! He has a point, and it’d be nice for people to not call you ‘Butcher’!” Opening your arms up and shrugging a bit at Geralt, you looked between him and Jaskier.

“The White Wolf it is then!” Jaskier said with a grin. The bard walked a bit closer to Roach, something that caused Geralt to turn his head and give a slight glare at as the bard moved. “Hey, mind if I hop up? It’s just that, I’m not really wearing the right kind of footwear,” Seeing Jaskier lifting a hand toward Roach, Geralt’s glared turned heavier.

“Don’t touch Roach.”

“Yeah, right. Yeah,” Laughing a bit, you watched as Jaskier quickly withdrew his hand from Roach and returned it to his side. Just a few moments after snapping at the bard, Geralt halted Roach and hopped off her.

“Oh, are we here?” you asked as you also came to a stop. Watching as Geralt tied Roach’s reigns to a nearby tree, the man nodded slightly before turning and walking past you, his hand patting you on your shoulder as he walked by. “Right, but where…is here?”

“The elves called this Dol Blathanna before bequeathing it to humans and retreating into their golden palaces in the mountains,” Jaskier explained to you. Looking around the area, you admired the hills that were rolling with grass and the wind that jostled them about. Turning around and petting Roach gently, you saw that she had found a patch of grass to eat, and you smiled a bit.

“Elves, huh?” you said quietly. “Wonder why they would give up this beautiful land?”

“Geralt?” Hearing Jaskier, you looked up to see him walking toward where Geralt had walked off to. Seeing the Witcher disappear behind a large rock formation just up the path, you called out to Jaskier who only continued to follow Geralt. “Geralt? Wh—Where are you going? Geralt, don’t leave me!”

“Oh boy…” Patting Roach gently on her neck, you began to walk toward the area that Jaskier and Geralt were walking toward. Rounding the rock that the former of the 2 had just past, you almost bumped into Jaskier who had stopped just passed the turn and who was watching Geralt cautiously move down the path between more rock formations.

“Hello? What are we looking for again?” Jaskier said toward Geralt.

“Blessed Silence,” Geralt said so quietly that you barely heard it.

“Yeah, I don’t really go in for that,” Jaskier said as he began to walk toward the Witcher again. “Have you ever hunted a devil before?”

“Jaskier, come back here,” you called out to the bard. “Let him find what he’s looking for.” Pacing down toward Jaskier, the bard didn’t stop moving toward Geralt as you neared him. Geralt was stepping out into a small area between a few large rocks as you caught up to Jaskier, who was making a displeased face in the Witcher’s direction.

“Have you, uh… have you ever hunted a devil before, Geralt?” Jaskier tried again.

“Devils don’t exist,” Geralt replied blankly, as if the statement was so obviously true.

“Wait, wait, wait, so you’re telling me that werewolves exist, but devils don’t? Nor drakes or pike?” you asked suddenly at Geralt who simply ignored you.

“Have you come across a werewolf before?” Jaskier excitedly asked as he turned to face you.

“Yeah, and it was horrifying! It was as tall as a tree, and it’s claws were as sharp as a blade!” you said as you threw your arms in the arm to mimic the height of the one werewolf you had ever seen. “Barely made it out alive, definitely wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Geralt here.”

“Ohhh-ho-ho! You simply must tell me the whole story!”

“Well, alright. It was about 5 years ago, just outside of a place called Kurgel…no, wait.” Pausing as you tried to remember the name of the small town, you ran your hands through your hair as you thought. “Kruegel? Kaskon? Kagen, it was Kagen! Right, that was it!”

“The little town of Kagen? What a surprise a werewolf must have been for them!” Jaskier commented as he wrote down something into a little notebook that he previously didn’t have in his hands. When did he pull that out, and had he been carrying ink and a feather with him this whole time you wondered.

“I think the villagers were more surprised to have Geralt around; no one could take their eyes off of him! And, so, just out—”

“Stop! Talking!” Barked Geralt suddenly. Hearing the booming voice, you and Jaskier turned and looked at the Witcher, a very angry look on his face that was directed at you. Grinning sheepishly, you slowly lifted your hand to cover your mouth as your other gave the man a sign of confirmation.

“Ah, right, the devil! Or, the not-devil! What exactly are we doing, Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he looked over Geralt who simply shifted his angry look from you to the bard. The Witcher made no attempt to answer the bard, and as he simply turned away from him, you could barely hear the angry hum he was making.

“Sometimes there’s monsters,” Geralt finally said after he had looked around a bit more. “Sometimes there’s money. Rarely both. That’s the life.”

“Words of wisdom from The Witcher,” you muttered quietly behind your hand so only Jaskier could hear. The bard chuckled a bit as he looked at you, and he adjusted the lute on his back again as he shifted again to face Geralt. As Jaskier began to take a step toward the still searching man, he and you watched as a grey blur flew through the air and collided with said searching man’s head, causing him to curse loudly and turn around sharply.

“Act Two begins! What was that?” Jaskier cried out loudly, his hands clasped tightly on the strap of his lute. Letting your eyes wander around the area near Geralt quickly, you brought your hand up and laid it lightly over the handle of your sword, ready to use it should it be necessary. “Looked like a tiny cannonball from…” Hearing the trailing off of the bard’s voice, something that seemed odd from such a talkative person, you turned and faced where Jaskier was facing, your eyes going wide at the sight before him. “Oh, my gosh. Geralt… it is a devil!”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” you said as you stepped in front of the troubadour quickly, your arm pushing the man back as you stared at the devil that lay just beyond the brush near the rocks.

“Ohh, I have to see this magical, this mythi—” A loud thud replaced the sound of Jaskier finishing his sentence, and you turned your head quickly to see the man falling to the ground unconscious with a new, bloody wound on his forehead. Cursing loudly, you tried to turn back around to where you had last seen Geralt and tried to call out to him, but as the world blurred from your movement, you felt a sharp pain in your head that you doubted was unlike the one Jaskier or Geralt had just felt. Your world quickly blurred out to black, despite your best efforts to prevent it, and the last bit of your vision caught the image of the devil charging at Geralt before all before you was lost to darkness.

* * *

The first thing you felt when your sight finally came back was your body shaking, and because of that, the second thing you felt was panic that quickly spread through your body. Trying to lunge forward, you found yourself unable to move, your arms tied firmly behind you and to someone else. As the shaking of your body stopped suddenly, your ears began to once again hear those around you.

“This is the part where we escape,” you heard quietly to your left.

“This is the part where they kill us!” you heard sharply to your right.

“Who’s they?” Feeling the tension in the room, you swung your head to your left and then to your right, seeing both Jaskier and Geralt respectively, who appeared to be the other people tied to you from behind. Sighing a bit at the situation, you fixed your eyes forward as you saw movement coming in from out of the cave you were sat in.

One of the people rushed over quickly to where you all sat, her face contorted in anger and intent as she moved, and the other’s face less angry as he walked more calmly behind the first person. The angrier of the two stopped before you for a moment, and as you saw their leg move up from the ground, you braced yourself. Hearing the kick hit Jaskier, you turned and looked at him as he coughed out from the strike and as the angry woman yelled something in a tongue you barely recognized.

“Elves,” Geralt said as the angry elf backed away from Jaskier, her foot slamming back onto the ground as he spoke. Flipping your head around, you tried your hardest to see Geralt but found that he was barely glancing to his side toward your direction, his eyes move focused on the feet of the elf in front of you.

“What do we do now?” you asked quietly to him.

“Oi, that’s my lute!” Turning to the voice, you saw the other elf that had yet to speak messing with Jaskier’s lute, something that was making the bard try very hard to turn toward the person. Grunting a bit as Jaskier squirmed against you, you tried your best to remain still as to not aggrevate the minor ache in your head. “Give that back! Geralt! Do your—your witchering—”

“Shut up!” Geralt growled at Jaskier.

“No!”

“Oh, they really are gonna kill us, aren’t they?” you asked quietly as you continued to watch the still silent elf mess around with Jaskier’s lute. Being distracted with the lute wielding elf, you were startled by the sudden movement of the other ever angry elf, and as she slammed her foot into your gut, you cried out while you tried hunched forward.

“<You shut up!>” the angry elf yelled as she set her foot back on the ground. Barely looking up at her, you wondered what she had said to you. Whatever she had said to you, you knew it was angry and it was probably better to cease talking than to ask her to repeat herself.

“My elder speech is rough,” you heard Jaskier say. Trying to turn to look at him, you flinched as a surge of pain swept through you. “I only got part of that.”

“Humans, shut up,” the angry elf said, and it took you a moment to realize that you were able to understand what she had said.

“<Ah, got it. Thanks so much.>”

“Jaskier, I swear to god…” you muttered quietly as you continued to try to turn to the bard.

“Do you wanna die now?” the angry elf asked at no one in particular, her foot tapping on the ground lightly. Giving up on turning to see Jaskier, you let yourself face forward and watched the very angry elf tap her foot rhythmically on the ground as she awaited an answer.

“As opposed to later?” At the ask from Geralt, you watched as the elf moved her foot swiftly from the ground again.

“No, please, not the lu—” Getting cut off by the foot meeting his gut as well, Jaskier too hunched forward in pain.

“Leave off!” Geralt barked at the elf. “He’s just a bard!” Hearing Jaskier’s deep breathing, you tried to lean toward him a bit only to get hit suddenly in the face by the elf’s foot.

“You don’t deserve the air you breathe!” The elf yelled as she turned to kick Geralt in the face just after she had kicked you. “Everything you touch, you destroy!” Hearing the elf hit Geralt again, you couldn’t help but feel your face scrunch, both from the pain in your face and from the anger inside you. A strangled noise from the other elf brought your attention to him, and you watched as a second string on the lute was snapped, something that made the elf drop the instrument onto the dusty cave floor at

“You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!” Jaskier about yelled to both the elves, his body twisting against yours as he tried to face both the elves.

“Jaskier, shut it!” you said angerly as you tried to ram your head into the man, almost desperate to get him to stop talking. You knew that you and Geralt were capable of taking a few punches without much worry, but as the bard had very little protection to his name besides the flimsy doublet he was wearing, you worried that any more hits to him would severely injure him.

“Do you like my place? Hmm?” the elf asked, bitterness in her voice as she motioned to the cave around her with her arms out wide. Kneeling down, she took a hold of Geralt’s chin before she continued to speak, “Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?” It was only a second later that you caught sight of Geralt slamming his head into the elf, her chin splitting open as she stumbled backwards onto the ground.

“Yeah, take that, pointy!” Jaskier chimed in as the silent elf ran forward to help the injured one. Watching as the woman before you coughed up blood onto the ground, you felt your face scrunch again, this time in confusion as to why she was so vigorously coughing up blood despite only being knocked in the chin. “Wait, what—what’s wrong with her?” you heard Jaskier ask for you.

“She’s sick,” came a reply from the cave opening. You and the 2 men on either side of you looked toward the new voice, less than surprised to see another elf entering from where the others had but very surprised to see another creature enter with him, one that was very familiar looking.

“Oh, you’re the—” you began to say.

“Oh, and who’s this?” Jaskier asked loudly, his head turning more toward the pair that walked in. Feeling his head lightly touch yours, you growled a bit, upset at being interrupted and you had to stop yourself from slamming your head into the bard’s to get him off of you.

“He’s Filavandrel, King of the Elves,” the second, unknown creature answered at Jaskier.

“Not a king. Not by choice,” The elf named Filavandrel said, his voice full of concern as he knelt down beside to the still coughing elf. As he knelt down, his one hand gently set down the lute that was on his back against the nearby wall and his other gently pressed against the sick elf’s back.

“And you’re the devil who was stealing,” you said at the creature who stood behind the others.

“You were stealing for them,” Geralt said simply to the creature as well.

“I felt for them,” the creature explained lightly as he knelt down to the elf woman. “They were forced out of Dol Blathanna.”

“Forced out?” Jaskier asked, his voice almost mocking. “No, they choose—” Knocking the bard’s head off of your own, you turned to glare at him for a second before you looked back toward the elves and creature.

“Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To Starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?” Hearing Filavandrel speak toward Jaskier, you felt the bard’s shoulders slump a bit only a second later. Turning your head a bit, you could see the man’s eyebrows furrow, and could almost see the questions running through his head as he thought about what was just said to him. Turning back to the elves and the Sylvan again, you saw the look of a heavy heart on the sylvan’s face as he looked over you, Geralt, and Jaskier.

“Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt,” the Sylvan finally said to the elf woman on the ground after a few moments. Toruviel, as the woman was called, merely shook her head as the sylvan placed his hands on her shoulders.

“What’s three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?” Toruviel said, her voice full of bitterness as she spat onto the ground.

“Two humans,” Geralt said to the group. “And you can let them go.”

“Like hell; if you’re not human, then I’m not human,” you said at Geralt. Seeing the man’s face scrunch up at you, you shook your head at the man’s look to you. “One human. And he’s done not a thing wrong. You should let him go.”

“Then Posada will learn that we’ve been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die…” Filavandrel stated, his voice growing more disheartened as he spoke. “…on both sides.”

“The lesser evil. No matter what you choose, you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me.” Hearing Geralt speak such honest words, you turned to look at the group of elves and the sylvan. None of them moved toward your group, and each of their faces had an expression of hurt on it, something you were sure you were mirroring back at them.

“That’s the problem. I can’t. This is necessary,” Filavandrel said simply as he finally stepped forward toward Geralt.

“I understand. As long as you understand… that it won’t be long before you follow me in death.”

From the time you had been in this new world, there had nary been speak of elves from any of the people you had ever talked too. Occasionally there was talk of them, but never in a positive light from anyone. From the elves in front of you, from what Jaskier had said to you earlier, and what Geralt had just said, you slowly pieced together how the elves came to be in the dank cave you were sat in. Thinking about all the humans who have previously thrown stones and sticks at Geralt, someone who was also a human, you felt yourself look over the group of elves before you again, your heart heavy as you knew exactly what had happened to them.

“Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic,” Hearing the talk of magic and chaos, you looked up and watched Filavandrel, curious as to what he meant.

“Chaos is the same as it’s always been. Humans just adapted better,” Geralt said to Filavandrel.

“You say adapt, and I say destroy,” the king countered.

“You are choosing to starve. You’re cutting off your ear to spite your face.”

“You think this is about pride?” With his voice tinged with anger, Filavandrel stepped toward Geralt as he spoke. “My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back. They were slaughtered. ‘The Great Cleansing’, humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow… our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I’m Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They’ll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children.” Hearing the elf king confirm your suspicions on what had happened to the elves, you glanced from him to Toruviel and then to the sylvan next to her. Toruviel refused to look at you however, and her eyes remained on Filavandrel.

“Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again,” you heard Geralt say after a few moments. “Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be.”

“Like you, Witcher?”

“I have learned to live with them. So that I may live.” As Geralt finished speaking, you watched as Toruviel rose to her feet and stepped toward Filavanderal.

“Please, my King. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight!” she pleaded to the elf king. “Let us take back what’s ours. Starting now.” Taking a second to look over her, Filvandrel paused only a moment before he turned to Geralt, his knife coming out of his sheath as he neared the Witcher.

“Wait!” the sylvan called out as he saw the knife. Reaching forward, he grabbed a hold of Filvandrel’s hand, stopping him in place just before Geralt.

“Torque, stand aside!” Filavandrel shouted at the sylvan.

“The witcher could’ve killed me. But he didn’t. He’s different. Like us.” Torgue said quickly to the elf king, a bit of desperation in his voice. Filavandrel didn’t seem to listen to the sylvan and he quickly shoved Torque away before he turned back to Geralt.

“If you must kill me… I am ready,” Geralt said simply as Filavandrel looked over him. “But the Sylvan’s right. Don’t call me human.” Feeling the man move, you turned to see Geralt baring his neck to the elf, his face completely unreadable in the moment. Filavandrel lifted his knife up, his face also unreadable as he paused a moment to look over Geralt again.

“…A Witcher isn’t human, huh?” you asked quietly toward Geralt. Filavandrel turned quickly to look at you, his face scrunching a bit as he kept his hand held high.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“It makes sense,” you said lightly. “Even if we did leave here, those folks at the pub wouldn’t serve us anymore. Whatever they’re scared of can’t be human to them I guess.” Geralt shifted his head a bit, his neck still barred to the elves, but tilted enough to be able to see you as you spoke. “That’s why they hire Witchers to do their work, huh? Cause they only care if other humans die. Once you detach yourself from the ones that are just too different from you…” Letting your voice trail off, you sighed a bit. Looking up at Filavandrel, and then to Toruviel and Torque, you smiled a bit before you turned your head up and mirrored Geralt. “By default, by not being from here, guess I’m not human either.”

“…Enough.” Lowering your head slightly, you watched as Filavandrel slowly replaced his knife before he turned to Toruviel and Torque. “We have much to do,” he said quietly to the pair. “Send them away.” Toruviel and Torque hesitantly stepped forward, their hands going to the ropes that tied you, Jaskier, and Geralt together. Watching as they freed your arms, you felt your face furrow in confusion.

Standing up slowly, you let your arms go above your body to stretch them out as Jaskier and Geralt also rose up. Toruviel and Torque didn’t say anything as they tossed the ropes they held to the side, and merely turned to face Filavandrel after everyone was standing. Reaching for his bag, Geralt popped it open and shuffled around in it for a second. Turning and looking at him, you wondered what he was doing until he pulled out the bag of ducats he had been given earlier.

“Our word,” Geralt said as he stepped forward past Toruviel and Torque and to Filavandrel, his hand extending the bag toward the elf king. “That you’ll not see humans here by our words.” Filavandrel didn’t say anything as he took the bag from Geralt, and he merely looked over the bag for a second before he nodded to Toruviel and Torque.

“As reparations then,” Toruviel said from behind Geralt. Turning and facing her, you watched as she lifted the lute that Filavandrel had set down earlier and walked toward Jaskier.

“For…For me?” the bard asked, genuinely shocked at the gift. Taking the lute gently, Jaskier cradled the instrument in his arms not to dissimilar to how one would hold a small child, something you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. Turning away from the man, you caught the last sight of Filavandrel as he silently exited the cave, Torque following closely behind him. Toruviel made her way from the cave silently as well, rushing to catch up to the others as they left.

Looking around the room at Jaskier and Geralt, no one said anything for a few moments, and as Geralt finally grunted and began to make his way out of the cave, everyone remained silent still. The walk down from the cave was a steep one, the rocks and path that lead up to it were loose and dusty, but you were relived to see Roach in the distance as you exited the cave, glad to still be close to where you had first met Torque.

Jaskier said nothing as he followed behind you and Geralt, too preoccupied with examining the new lute he had been given as he walked. Stopping not once, Geralt continued down the path and walked straight to Roach, who was still munching on a patch of grass as if nothing had happened at all. Pulling the reigns from the tree, Geralt gently patted Roach on the neck before he began to mount her.

“Hey, can I…” reaching up hesitantly as Geralt settled onto Roach, you watched as the man looked down to you and to your extended arm. The Witcher merely hummed at you, his hand coming down to yours and grabbing it gently. Geralt pulled you up onto the Roach behind himself, and as you finally settled against the man’s back, you sighed lightly, glad to not be walking anymore.

“Ya’know, Credit where credit is due. That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way,” Jaskier said suddenly just as Roach began to walk down the path. “Kill me, I’m ready,” Hearing the bard imitate Geralt, you couldn’t help but snort at the man. Looking at Jaskier who was walking along side Roach, you smiled a bit.

“Was it reverse psychology though?” you asked.

“Whatever it was, that’s the conclusion,” The bard replied, his arms waving about in front of him a bit. “They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly’s coin to the elves.”

“Filavandrel’s lute not gift enough for you?” Geralt asked, his head not even turning to look at the troubadour.

“Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn’t she? I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again. Be reborn.”

“Lets hope so,” you said lightly. “They’ve got a lot of work to do until then though.” Hearing some shuffling from Jaskier, you looked down and watched as the man pulled forward his new gifted lute, and as he set his hands in place, you knew what was coming.

_“Will the elf king heed_

_What the witcher entreats?_

_Is history a wheel_

_Doomed to repeat?_

“No, that’s… that’s shit,” Jaskier muttered to himself, his shoulders slouching a bit. Feeling Roach come to a stop suddenly, you peaked around Geralt and saw that the road split into a crossroads.

“This is where we part ways, bard. For good,” Geralt said, his head finally turning toward Jaskier who merely pouted at the Witcher.

“Look, I promised to change the public’s tune about you. At least allow me to try!” Seeing Jaskier lift his shoulders up again, you chuckled a bit at the man’s ability to bounce back. Geralt merely sighed and steered Roach down one of the paths as Jaskier followed closely behind, his voice taking off in light song.

_“When a humble bard_

_Graced a ride along_

_With Geralt of Rivia_

Along came this song

_From when the White Wolf fought_

_a silver-tongued devil_

_His army of elves_

_At his hooves did they travel_

_They came after me_

_With masterful deceit_

_Broke down my lute_

_And they kicked in my teeth_

_While the devil’s horns_

_Minced our tender meat_

_And so cried the witcher_

_“He can’t be bleat”_

“That’s not how it happened. Where’s your newfound respect?” Geralt asked, his face scrunched a bit at the bard.

“Respect doesn’t make history,” Jaskier replied simply with a shrug just before he continued on with his new song.

_“Fight the mighty horn_

_That bashes and breaks you_

_And brings you to mourn_

_he thrust every elf_

_Far back on the shelf_

_High up on the mountain_

_From whence it came_

_He wiped out your pest_

_Got kicked in his chest_

_He’s a friend of humanity_

_So give him the rest_

_That’s my epic tale_

_Our champion prevailed_

_Defeated the villain_

_Now pour him some ale_

_Toss a coin to your witcher_

_O Valley of Plenty”_

“That’s quite a catchy tune, honestly,” you said to Geralt.

“Don’t let him hear that, his ego may explode,” Geralt muttered as he kept his eyes on the path ahead. Glancing around Geralt, you saw that Jaskier had moved in front of Roach while he sang, and you wondered where he was planning on going.

“He seems dead set on changing how people see you,” you stated. “I wonder if people can turn over a new leaf about someone they fear.”

“Hm.” Hearing the typical reply from Geralt, you sighed lightly as you set your arms around the Witcher gently. 

“Oh yeah, now that that’s done, can we find a pub that won’t have someone hire you? I never got my ale,” you said at Geralt, not expecting a reply. “I could probably use a bath too; I’m covered in dirt and plant and I think that this is my own blood? Maybe it’s Jaskier’s too. Might be your’s as well. It’s been a while since I’ve bathed anyway so—”

“You, stop talking,” Geralt barked at you, his head turning slightly back around so he could see you. “And you,” Turning back to face forward, Geralt glared at Jaskier who was simply grinning at him from below. “No more singing. I want my blessed silence.”

“…Hey Jaskier. What’re the lyrics to your song?” you asked at Jaskier with a smug grin on your face.

“Oh, you wanting to sing along?” Jaskier asked back, his grin still wide on his face as he turned around to walk backwards down the path.

“Get off Roach; I’m leaving you here,” Geralt growled. You knew he wasn’t serious, and as he lead Roach down the road, you wondered where he had in mind to stop next.


	3. Actuate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say thanks to every single person who has left a comment on this. I'm not sure why replying makes me anxious, even just a 'thank you!" but I really do appreciate all the nice things y'all have said! I wasn't sure anyone'd like this series cause a good chunk of it is just the show but in written form? But I've always wanted to do this with a series as I feel like typing up what I'm seeing helps me with my writing. It also gives me a reason to re-watch the show too.  
> Second off, holy HELL. This chapter kind of...took off. I knew these chapters were going to be long, but not....16.5k words long. So, uh, enjoy! Hopefully I did it justice and you enjoy it! I know a lot of this chapter is pretty straight forward with the show, but I promise the next chapter won't be. It's going to be more...Jaskier focused, if you catch my drift.

“Geralt, is this where you’ve been for the last 3 days?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Oh, Roach and I are so judging you.”

Watching as Roach nudged her head into Geralt’s shoulder, you huffed just as she did to the man. Turning and glancing at you slightly, you merely stuck your tongue out at the Witcher, your eyes catching sight of the approaching man behind him. Leaning a bit and seeing the innkeeper coming up to Geralt, his body showing the same almost seething anger in it as his face portrayed, the Witcher turned and looked over the shorter man.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any coin on you?” you heard Geralt ask. Realizing the man was talking to you, you couldn’t help but huff again as you shook your head.

“No! You don’t have enough to pay for your 3-day excursion?”

“Then, I’ll be back with payment in a few days,” Geralt said to the innkeeper before him. Watching as the man reached to his side and patted Roach gently, you couldn’t stop yourself from making a face at the Witcher in disbelief. “Anything happens to my horse…”

“You don’t scare me,” the innkeeper said, his voice confident and smug. Bringing your hands up and rubbing them over your face, making sure to keep your eyes clear of obstruction, you watched as Geralt stepped up to the man, getting in his personal space and towering over him. You swore you heard the man’s breath stop as the Witcher stared down at him, and as the man clenched his fists in a white knuckled grip, you let your hands fall down to your hips.

“Point me to Temeria,” Geralt growled at the man. The now terrified innkeep quietly and quickly pointed his full arm out to his right, and you turned to look in the direction he was pointing. You weren’t sure where Temeria was, hell you weren’t even sure what town you were in now, but as Geralt glanced back at you for a second, you knew that you’d be figuring out where Temeria was very soon.

Geralt removed himself from the innkeeper’s space, and as he turned and began to walk toward where the man had pointed, you gently patted Roach on her side as you sighed.

“Be back soon love,” You said to her gently before you began to follow after Geralt quickly, making sure to take large steps to keep up with the man. Catching up to the man quickly, you stepped in front of him and spun yourself around to walk backwards in front of him. “What’s in Temeria?”

“Work,” Geralt replied simply.

“Yes, I assumed that, what kind of work?” you asked, a smidge more irritated at the man than you were a second prior.

“More innkeeping,” Geralt snarked back.

“Alright wise-guy, wha--” you felt your foot catch on something as you tried to cross your arms over your chest and you to stumbled for a second, your legs scrambling to keep you upright. Cursing loudly, your arms flailed about in the air as you tried to keep yourself from meeting with the earth suddenly. Catching yourself finally and quickly righting yourself, you crossed your arms over your chest again hesitantly and puffed your cheeks out as you began to walk forward next to Geralt instead of backwards in front of him.

“…Are you drunk?” Geralt asked as he looked over you slowly.

“What, your Witcher senses can’t smell the ale on me?”

“You always smell like ale.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. ‘always-able-to-find-a-tavern-no-matter-where-we-are’?” holding your finger up to the man, you refused to look at him as you spoke, “Look, you told me to wait at the tavern 3 days ago. And so, I did!”

“And that’s why you don’t have any coin?” Hearing a small laugh, you turned and pouted at the Witcher.

“Ey! What else was I to do while you were tumbling about at the inn?” Pointing your finger at the man, his face merely changed to show his amusement. “It’s not like I can just go down the road and go to a library or a café or something, those don’t really exist here, now do they? All that town had was the tavern and a horse stable!”

“So you drank then? For 3 days straight?”

“I thought you were going to come back after a bit!” Holding your arms out to your sides, careful to avoid hitting the man, you scrunched your face in frustration. “I can’t tell time when I’m drunk, and I was having the time of my life with those bar maidens. They were quite excited to have me around, I’ll let you know.”

“They were quite excited for your coin,” Geralt chuckled.

“Look, if you had told me you were wanting to go rustle around in some sheets, you wouldn’t have had to go off and find the most expensive lady of the night; we could have made an arrangement and avoided this whole thing!” Bringing your arms down, you crossed them over your chest yet again as you turned to face the road. “You wouldn’t be in debt to some small-town innkeep, I wouldn’t have gone on a 3-day bender, and we’d be so much happier than we are now, walking to wherever the hell Temeria is.”

“Arrangement?” Hearing the word repeated back to you, you sucked in a small breath as you felt yourself tense up.

“I…” pausing for a moment, you felt yourself heat up as you tried to think of words to say. Shaking your head out quickly, you clapped your hands together in front of you suddenly just as you found the right words to yell out, “I am drunk! I don’t know what I’m saying! What monster are we killing again?” Refusing to look at Geralt, you knew the man was looking at you, his face probably an unreadable expression. Keeping your eyes forward, you waited for a response, knowing full well that one may not come as you and the Witcher continued to walk toward Temeria.

“Hm.”

* * *

Walking up to the sign, you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at what it read: ‘Temeria: Realm of monsters and cowardly kings.” Turning and watching Geralt walk down into the mines, you looked up past the entrance to the underground and admired the view of the castle beyond the forest growing over the mine.

Glancing to the sky, you could see the last bits of light surrounding the area, something you couldn’t help but groan at as you and Geralt had been walking all day. You were glad the sun was setting however, as the light of it had been aggravating the headache from your hangover that had started not long after the sun had risen earlier. Stepping away from the sign and toward where Geralt was going, you took large and quick steps to catch up to the man inside the mines.

The underground mine was vast and expansive, which impressed you fully as you walked through it. The main path of the mine was obvious, its walls spread out far on each side to allow people to walk through, and the side paths that lead to other places of it much smaller and more cramped. You and Geralt walked for a long time through the main part of the mine, and since you weren’t able to see the sky anymore, you were unsure how much time passed by. Just as you were able to complain about the amount of walking you were doing and how awful you felt as your hangover quietly and continuously threatened you, the sound of voices coming from down the corridor stopped you from speaking.

“…force his hand!” you heard from someone in the mine. Continuing with Geralt toward the sound, you listened to the unknown man as he spoke on. “Lay down our picks and refuse to work!”

“And a half-measure ain’t gonna do!” Rounding the corner nearest where the voices came from, you followed Geralt’s lead as he stopped himself near the group of men that you could now see and leant against the wall as the crowd continued to rally amongst themselves. “We’ve got to move on. Plenty of work south of Sodden.”

“My son, rest his soul, told me in Nilfgaard the king diddled whores while his subjects starved.” Looking at the man who had just spoken, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad hearing about his son, and assumed his son was one of the victims of the monster that was plaguing the kingdom. “Then someone came. The Usurper. And he rallied the people, and they took back what was theirs!” Men around the one speaking all yelled out in affirmation as the man finished speaking, the loud noise causing your head to throb sharply and causing you to look around at each of miners. They were all covered in dirt, something that wasn’t surprising, and you wondered how long each of them had worked in the mines for. “I say we follow their lead!” the man said after the other miners’ yells had died down. Raising their picks and staffs up, the group of miners cheered again, causing yet another tinge of pain to run through your head.

“You can’t kill the vukodlak, so you decide to kill your king?” Geralt asked to the men before you and him, his voice lightly coated with amusement. “Great plan.” The miners turned quickly at his sarcasm, their eyes looking over Geralt and you as each of them recognized that the pair of you had been listening to their rallying.

“Another fuckin’ Witcher. Your kind already swindled us once!” the leader of the rallied men barked at Geralt, his voice heavy in anger as he took a step forward.

“Well, he was a pretty shite Witcher obviously,” you said to the men as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Couldn’t finish the job, couldn’t deal with his pride hurting, couldn’t come back to admit it to you.”

“I take payment after the job is done and for a third of the price,” Geralt explained to the men. Looking at the leader of group, he eyed you skeptically before he looked amongst the men behind him.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just the…chronicler?” you tried as you smiled sheepishly. “I’m here on my own freewill; a volunteer of the people if you will! I keep this Witcher in check.” Glancing to the side as you gently tapped the back of your hand onto Geralt’s chest, you could see the small glare that he was giving to you, but you waved it off as you continued to smile at the miners before you.

“Take this as an apology,” Geralt said as he looked over the miners collective, his arms crossing over his chest firmly as he spoke. “From my guild to yours.” The men, especially the lead of the group, still looked at you and Geralt skeptically, their faces scrunched tightly, and their brows furrowed as their minds presumably thought over what you and the Witcher had said.

“And if you can’t kill it?” the leader of the group finally asked after a few moments where the only thing that could be heard was the crackling of the fire that was barely illuminating the area.

“Then I die,” the Witcher stated simply. Just after Geralt had spoken, the sound of footsteps began to fill the air. Turning toward where you thought the sound was coming from, you dropped your arms from your chest and watched as a small army of men, lead by one man in the front of them, appeared from a side paths going off of the area. The look of the small army was serious, mirroring the expression of their leader, and you immediately disliked them. Stopping before all the miners, the man in the front raised his hand, halting the men behind him as he looked over the collection of people before him.

“Please, everyone remain calm. Lower your weapons and return to your homes,” the leader commanded lightly to the miners as he lowered his own hand. “Do so quickly, and without further theatrics, and you have my word that our king will not hear of this treason.” Not believing what you were hearing, you couldn’t help but make a face at the man, one that caught his attention for a moment before his gaze was brought back to the leader of the miners who stepped forward.

“Foltest commits treason. He hides in his winter caste as we are eaten!” the lead said to the army front man. The rallied group behind him cheered loudly as he stood up to the army, their weapons and tools raised in tightly clenched fists as their voices echoed off of the walls. The man’s face was dimly lit by the flames around the room, but you could see the pained expression he wore as he stared down the army leader.

“Mikal was a good boy,” the army leader said softly to other, his hand coming up to lay gently on the miner’s shoulder. “Revenge will not ease your pain.” The man’s hand was quickly shoved away with force, and the pained expression on the miner’s face was quickly replaced with disgust as he spat upon the army leader’s shoe. At the sound of disrespect, the army men raised their arms and weapons, ready to charge forward. Their leader quickly lifted his hand, however, and they all hesitantly lowered their weapons once again.

“You know nothing of my pain,” the lead miner spat at the army leader as he turned away from him. He walked off, and as he did, each of his fellow miners slowly followed his lead and left the area. You watched as each left, seeing the looks of disgust and contempt on their faces as they slowly made their way passed you and back to their homes or their jobs.

“I’m sorry, but am I hearing you right?” you blurted out suddenly. The leader of the army turned back to you again, his gazed upon you as you glared at him. “You’re seriously telling them that you’ll not tell on them to your king cause they don’t want to get killed?”

“And what business have you here?” the man asked at you, a bit of bitterness in his voice.

“A lot, apparently! We’re here to stop whatever’s killing your people, since it seems your king hasn’t done a damn thing to stop it!” You didn’t even have to look at Geralt to know that he was giving you a familiar exacerbated look, this not being the first time you were speaking before you were thinking.

“No, you’re not,” the man said simply. Turning around and looking at his army, the man waved a hand toward you and Geralt. “See these ones to our borders. Temeria’s had their fill… of Witchers.” Huffing a bit as 4 men from the army began to walk toward you, you gave Geralt a side glance as he pulled himself off of the wall.

“We seriously leaving?” you asked quietly so that only he could hear.

“For now,” The 4 army men motioned for you to walk back to the entrance of the mine, something you stubbornly complied with. The walk back through the mine was unextraordinary, and almost everything was exactly as you had just seen it not even minutes before except for the few miners that were tucked away in the side paths off of the main mine hallway.

As you and Geralt exited the mine, one of the men ordered you both to stop, something you merely rolled your eyes at as you stopped. 2 of the men went off to an area beyond the trees, and you watched as this disappeared behind the leaves that were blocking a small part of the path. You glanced at Geralt just as the men left and couldn’t help but chuckle at the unamused look he was wearing that you were sure was mirroring your own.

The 2 men returned with 4 horses, and as they stepped into the area past the leaves where you and Geralt stood, the other 2 men stepped forward to grab a horse of their own. They all mounted their steads, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Roach was doing in the moment. It had only been a day since you and Geralt had left her, but you were already wondering how extreme a punishment you would enact on the innkeep should you return to find the mare hungry or hurt.

Geralt and you were motioned down the path by the pointing of one of the men’s swords, and you sighed lightly as you began to follow the 2 mounted mares down the road as the other 2 walked behind you and the Witcher. You wanted to say something to the men, start a conversation or even light banter with them as you walked as you knew Geralt would not have either of those, but as you still felt the dull throb of your headache and faint feel of unwellness in you, you decided against speaking at all.

Night had entirely arrived as you and the Witcher were led down the path, the only light being seen was the torches that the front men were holding as they sat on their horses and the moon that shone brightly above. You weren’t sure how far you had walked since you had been told to leave Temeria before you heard a strange thud behind you, one that sudden enough to make you jump a bit in place. Quickly spinning around, almost too fast as you stumbled for a moment still in your hungover state, you caught sight of one of men on the ground, and the other man beside him making his way to the ground probably in the same way as the first man as he slumped over and off his horse. As he hit the dirt with a solid thud that sounded identical to the first, you heard the shifting and sliding of the men behind you as they too slumped over and fell from their horses.

“Bedtime, huh?” you said quietly as your hand reached behind you for your sword. Taking a step back, you let yourself run into Geralt as you drew your weapon, knowing the man had already drawn his sword and was also searching the area for the source of the magic that had been cast. Glancing around the men on the ground and along the tree line, it didn’t take long for you to catch sight of a person emerging from behind the leaves of a shrub that was growing just beside the road. Clenching tightly on the handle of your sword, you looked the woman up and down slowly and you took stance, unsure of who she was or what she was doing in hiding. She was beautiful you noticed, and as you paused a moment to meet her eye, you sent your unarmed elbow back into Geralt’s back to alert the man.

“Hey look, a pretty sorceress. There could be worse ways to go down,” you said as you felt Geralt turn about his heel to face where you were looking.

“Witcher. Companion. You can put down your swords. I’m not here to hurt you,” the woman said to you and Geralt as she stepped a bit closer to the road.

“Says the witch hiding in the woods,” Geralt muttered quietly, his hand not moving to sheath his sword.

“Sorceress was correct.”

“…Witch.”

“Geralt, why are you so insistent on being rude to everyone?” you sighed as you looked up to the Witcher while you remained in your stance.

“Why are you so insistent on flirting with everyone?”

“Well, I uh… well, regardless! Why’d you go and…knock out our escorts, ma’am?” Turning away from Geralt, you slowly sheathed your weapon as you looked over the escorts that were still laying on the ground.”

“I am Triss Merrigold. I serve King Foltest,” the woman answered simply.

“I’m…really confused then,” you said as you looked from the men to the sorceress again. “Cause aren’t these men also …?”

“…He makes a show of kicking us out…then sends his errand girl to slip some coin to kill his monster,” Geralt stated, as if what he was saying were obvious. Maybe it was because of your headache but you felt like what he was saying was a farfetched idea and completely impractical. Thinking about how ridiculous royalty could be, however, made you think that maybe it really wasn’t that farfetched at all. “Not a very original plan for a king”

“It’s my plan. My coin. And I don’t want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it.”

* * *

Triss, as the lady had introduced herself as, lead you and Geralt back into Temeria again, this time taking a path that avoided the mines entirely and went straight to the castle above ground. She took you both to her lab, a place that was colourful and full of items that you assumed all had magical properties. Some of the plants and collected items in the jars along the wall were familiar to you, items that Geralt had collected and used to make into his own potions in the past, though you often never learned the name of many of the ingredients. You had tried to coerce the man into explaining what he was making many times, but each time he simply shrugged you off by saying “You’ll never use as it would kill you, so why do you need to know?”

Stepping up to where Triss was standing once you had finished looking her collection up and down, you mimicked Geralt’s action and leaned against the nearby wall as you waited for the lady to explain what was happening.

“Six years ago, stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city,” she began to explain. “Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all of Temeria. Foltest’s royal guard soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king’s sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died.”

“Was she pregnant?” Geralt asked.

“Well, if she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne, as Foltest never married. The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the brotherhood couldn’t risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature.”

“Brotherhood?” Cocking your head to the side a bit, you looked up at Geralt, hoping he or Triss would explain. You had heard of the Brotherhood before, but it had never been explained who or what it was.

“Are you unfamiliar with the Brotherhood?” Triss began to ask.

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations. They can’t be cured,” Geralt stated as he ignored you. Triss paused for a moment as she looked over you. You merely shrugged a bit, knowing there was a more pressing matter at hand. Triss gave you a strange look for a second before she turned to speak to the Witcher.

“Good thing it’s not a vukodlak,” she said to Geralt. Watching the woman wave her hand, you and Geralt stood up from the wall that you were against and began to follow her down from her lab.

* * *

Down below the castle Triss lead you and Geralt, farther down than even the part of mines you were escorted from were below the earth. As you entered the chamber, one very similar looking to the mines you noticed, the smell of death hit you, something that was entirely different from the mines. Although among the smell of death there was the smell of salt that was also present in the mines, and you wondered if the area you were in was once the original mines of Temeria or if the area had just been carved out for morbid storage. 

Following next to Geralt as Triss made her way down the hallway, you noticed the grimace that Geralt had on his face for a second, the smell of the death very much getting to him as you and he neared the source. Entering into an opening in the underground, the source of the rotten smell was presented to you by Triss’ extended hand, and you felt your face drop a little at the sight of salt preserves before you.

Geralt took lead, and as he leant down to the coffin that was motioned toward, he slowly shuffled his hand through the protrusion of salt. Beneath the heap lay a man, one of which you weren’t familiar with, but as Geralt kept shuffling his hand down the salt to clear away the preserving material from the man, you caught sight of deceased man’s necklace and knew immediately who he was even though you had never met him.

“You didn’t want the people to know it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin,” Geralt said quietly as he turned toward Triss slightly, his hand gently holding his fellow Witcher’s medallion up into the air.

“Oh, poor guy. Kind of feel bad about calling him a shite Witcher. But no wonder the guy’s asking price was so high. He knew what he was up against, how dangerous it was,” you said quietly as you stepped toward the coffin to look at the medallion Geralt was holding. You stopped just a few steps away from it, however, the smell of salt and death becoming overwhelming finally. You were glad that your hangover wasn’t making you nauseous as you feared that the strong rotten smell would have been the end of you as you slowly covered your mouth and nose with your hand. The strong smell, however, only intensified your head ache, and you glanced at Geralt as you wondered how he faired with the smell, if he was just unfortunately so used to it that it no longer had an effect on him at all.

Geralt gently set down the Witcher medallion and began to ruffle through the salt one handed again. Observing the movements, you slowly pieced together where Geralt was looking as the piles of salt slowly fell to the side to reveal the torn apart body of the former Witcher. You weren’t sure what exactly you were looking at as Geralt examined the different parts of the body, but given your general knowledge of human anatomy, you assumed you were looking at the man’s internal organs that had been carelessly shredded by the monster. It was bloody and messy, and the salt was sticking to different parts of the body, so it was difficult to identify which organ Geralt was looking at at a given time, but the Witcher seemed to know what he was doing as his hand ran over the different shredded parts.

“But he didn’t,” Geralt said after a long minute of looking over the body.

“Huh?”

“His heart’s missing along with his liver. Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga,” The living Witcher said as he slowly rose to standing while shaking off salt from his hand.

“Not a vukodlak after all?” you asked, curiosity heavy in your voice as you cocked your head. Reaching to your small bag, you pulled out a small piece of cloth and gently handed it to Geralt.

“Strigas are old wives’ tales though,” Triss said as she stepped closer to you and Geralt.

“Wait, aren’t strigas those other full moon creatures… They’re not unlike werewolves in that…” You remembered talking to Jaskier about strigass before, as the man was a walking book of stories from all corners of the continent. From vukodlaks to strigas to arachnomorphs, the bard had a story that pertained to almost any monster you had ever heard of. You took every story he told you with a grain of salt, however, as many of them sounded farfetched and insane. Given your lack of knowledge of what could actually be living on the continent and how unresponsive Geralt was to you most of the time, you never knew what to assume was real or not. Your head still ached however, and you found it hard to remember all the details you wanted to about strigas in the moment.

“The only way to make one is through a curse,” Geralt finished for you as he slowly wiped his hand free of the salt dust.

“Someone wanted Adda dead,” Triss stated quietly to herself.

“Oh, a mystery! But, wait…if Adda’s been buried then what, or I guess, who…?” Turning around and glancing at Triss, you looked her over for a moment before you turned back to Geralt and grabbed your cloth back that he was handing to you.

“The curse didn’t stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster,” the Witcher said as he looked toward Triss.

“Her daughter?”

“Strigas are female. This striga’s a princess,” Turning on his foot and walking back the way you had been led, Geralt walked ahead as you and Triss stood a moment and thought about what he had just said.

“…Fuck. To lift a curse and solve a mystery. And we don’t have much time either.” Day had sprung slowly while you Geralt had been lead back Temeria, and although your head was still fuzzy and hurting from your hangover, you still were able to remember that the full moon was due for the upcoming night. Time was short, and you worried that the miner’s tempers were shorter to rioting should another of their people be killed in less than a day.

* * *

“Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and his loud companion for a game of sleuthing,” the man who was introduced as the captain of the royal guard, Segelin, said quite pointily at Triss.

“This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon and these two have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature,” Triss countered. She had led you and Geralt up from the underground chambers to the King’s dining hall and had requested an immediate meeting with the man and his officers. All were less than thrilled to be meeting while the King was eating his lunch, but as Triss conveyed the urgency of the matter, the men conceded to a meeting.

“You say she’s a girl, then you will refer to her as ‘her royal highness’,” Segelin commanded as he crossed his arms over his chest. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the command, something that caused the captain to shoot you a dirty look. Swinging your legs in front of you a bit, you merely adjusted yourself on the window ledge on which you were sat.

“Segelin, I believe urgency warrants flexibility in court decorum,” said the man whom you had first met in the mines who was finally introduced as Ostrit. He had been introduced as ‘Lord Ostrit’ to be exact, and you weren’t sure exactly what the man was to the King Foltest, but you assumed that he was an advisor of some sorts.

“The Witcher’s theory is nonsense; Princess Adda was the people’s angel! Who’d wish to murder her?” Segelin asked to no one in particular as he swung around to face Ostrit.

“What about her lover?” Geralt asked from where he was leaning against the window ledge next to where you sat.

“Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy,” Segelin countered bitterly as he turned to face the Witcher, his face scrunched in disgust.

“What’s your proof?” you asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, people can appear as good as they want, but it’s not stopped people from hiding the worst things about themselves from others,” you explained simply. Your world or the current world you were in, people had consistently proven to be awful almost anywhere you had been, and you had a feeling that this situation was no exception.

“I will not have such disrespect spoken of the dead!” Segelin about shouted, his face contorted in such great offence at the thought of this Adda doing something wrong.

“Perhaps if you called off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her,” Triss offered lightly as she glanced at you for a second.

“Except this Witcher would kill the princess as she sleeps and collect the miners’ coin!” Segelin said, anger present heavily in his voice as he pointed at Geralt.

“You haven’t listened to a word anyone’s said, have you? It’s not about the coin! Did we mention curses can sometimes be broken?” you huffed. Feeling a hand smack into your chest lightly, you looked down and then to Geralt who was giving you a directed but gentle look as he retracted his hand back to cross both of his arms over his chest.

“Call her a princess,” the Witcher said as he looked away from you. “Call her a unicorn if you’d like to. She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb.”

“Have neither of you any respect?!” Segelin finally shouted.

“Oh, please don’t shout,” you muttered as your dull headache throbbed lightly at the sudden loud noise.

“Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry… she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt. An overgrown abortion.”

“Enough,” the ever silent Foltest finally said quietly.

“Your Highness?” Everyone turned and looked at Foltest, and Segelin stepped a pace closer to the king as the man set down his cutlery.

“Leave,” the king commanded quietly but firmly. No one moved for a second, but as Foltest said nothing else, Segelin turned from him to you and Geralt, motioning for the door. You sighed as you slid down from the window ledge and obeyed the silent command, slowly making your way out of the room along with Triss, Ostrit, and Geralt. The guard at the front of the room slowly slid open the door as you neared, but you simply motioned for Triss to go ahead of you. She nodded gently as she passed you and stepped through the door, and you followed just behind her. Ostrit and Segelin left the room just after you, and you turned yourself around just in time to see Geralt grabbing ahold of the guard that held the door by his scruff to shove him through, closing the door quickly and firmly as the guard stumbled into the hall.

“Hey!!” shouted the guard as he quickly found his footing and tried to shove open the door. “Open the door! Open this door! Protect the king! Witcher!” Pounding on the door, the guards that were stood outside the door previously quickly joined the man in trying to open the door, their fists knocking upon the wood loudly and forcibly.

“If the Witcher harms the king, it’ll be your head that accompanies his burial!” Segelin growled at you just before he moved to join the guards in pounding on the door.

“I have many doubts about how well you’d fare against Geralt,” you muttered quietly, unsure and uncaring if Segelin heard you. You turned from the scene of 4 men trying to open the door to Triss, nodding gently at her as you turned and left the area. You knew that Foltest was commanding you and Geralt to leave Temeria just as Ostrit had done earlier, but you didn’t want to take his command as such. Instead, you wanted to take his command as a ‘leave my presence’ one, knowing full well that any court of royalty wouldn’t take your answer well. Nevertheless, you were leaving the king’s presence like you were ordered as you walked down the hall.

* * *

Leaving the castle gave you and your now pounding headache relief from the insistent pounding of fists onto wood, and the air that was cold was almost welcome as you walked yourself down the path. Light, frozen dew covered the grass and shrubs around the area from the morning condensation while a fresh but thin layer of snow began to accumulate on top of them, and you began to wonder how long your body was going to throw a fit about your 3-day bender. You had been drinking water during your long days, but you still had drank for basically 3 days straight, and so you weren’t very surprised that your hangover was striking with a vengeance for longer than normal. You just hoped that you wouldn’t have a 3-day hangover as karma for following a command naïvely.

You neared the old castle of Temeria, and as you made your way toward the front of it by going the long way around near the bottom of the castle, you heard the faint shuffling of people near the entrance. You slid along the bricks of the reinforced wall outside of the bridge, and as you neared the end, you peered around the corner slowly to look for the source of the noise. Seeing the distinct figures of 2 men on top of the bridge, weapons at their sides and dressed up in armor, you slid yourself back and slid down to wall to sitting.

Taking in the cool air and the quiet of the currently peaceful day, you closed your eyes and leant your head back against the cool wall as you waited. You sat for an unknown amount of time, taking in the gentle breeze and distant shuffling of the guards a top the bridge before you finally heard the light crunching of frozen grass being stepped on in the direction that you had come from.

“Glad you could finally join me.” Turning and seeing Geralt round the corner near you, you grinned a bit at the man, gently patting the place next to where you sat.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make your way in already,” the Witcher said as he sat himself down next to you. Noting that the man had no visible cuts or bruises on him, you turned from him to glance around the corner a bit to watch the 2 guards.

“Eh, I wanted to see if that one guy…Segelin was it? Wanted to see if he was going to fight you,” you explained as you observed the 2 guards shaking almost literally in their boots on the bridge, whether from the cold or the striga inside you knew not.

“He didn’t.”

“Coward,” you chuckled lightly. “Ready to go in?”

“Wait a bit.”

“Why?” Looking at Geralt, you cocked your head a bit. The man didn’t answer you and merely leaned back against the wall like you had done earlier. Mirroring the man and leaning back again, you let your eyes close gently as you waited for whatever Geralt had said to wait for.

“You were told to leave Temeria,” you heard suddenly after a few minutes of quiet. Opening your eyes and turning your head, you saw Triss, now dawning a cloak over her form, walking up near Geralt.

“But come on. These views,” the Witcher said sarcastically as he motioned to the area around, something you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at.

“I just thought we were told to leave Foltest’s presence,” you snarked quietly.

“Are you going to kill her?” Triss asked as she stopped walking.

“I don’t want the miners’ coin.”

“Or mine, apparently. What is this girl to you?” Looking between you and Geralt, you saw the genuine curiosity present on Triss’ face as she spoke. “Why do you care?”

“You first. I saw how Foltest and his boy spoke to you. Why help those who won’t listen?”

“It ain’t ever about snobby kings and their bench boys. Can’t let the innocent get harmed anymore,” you interjected quietly as you placed your hands on your knees and rose to standing. Triss and Geralt both looked at you, and you merely gave them both a gentle smile as you peered around the corner at the guards once again.

“I’m sure someone as legendary as you has already figured out several ways to get past Segelin’s guards,” Triss chuckled as pulled her cloak over herself more.

“Of course,” Feeling a tap on your side, you turned yourself slightly and looked down at Geralt. Seeing the rock that he was holding out to you, you couldn’t help but grin wide.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

“Don’t hit them.”

“Oh.” Taking the rock from the Witcher, you weighed it in your hand lightly. “Oh dammit, alright.” Turning back around to the castle, you looked over the 2 guards at the doors for a moment before you shifted yourself into a better stance, one where your legs were spread wide and your non-throwing arm way was braced against the wall. Hearing a snort from Geralt, you chuckled lightly as you tightened your hold on the rock as you lowered your arm down. Swinging your arm up and over yourself, you let the rock go, sending it flying toward the castle, completely out of sight of the guards.

Not even a moment after the rock had landed and its sound echoed off of the castle’s walls and out into the world, and the screams of the guards along with the sounds of their weapons hitting the ground graced your ears. Turning around to face Geralt and Triss, still standing with your legs wide and your non-throwing hand still against the wall, you grinned at them as you gave them a thumbs up.

* * *

“Fuck! It’s cold as hell in here too! I really miss central heating and cooling.” Although the cold outside had helped a bit with your headache, you had hoped that the castle was going to be a bit warmer, but as you walked through the halls of the castle, you found that the air was just as cold as you could still see your breath as you spoke and breathed.

“You’re talking nonsense again,” Geralt said as he attempted to open a door that was at the end of the hall were walking down.

“You just don’t know what you’re missing!” Sticking your tongue out at the Witcher as he let go of the door that wouldn’t open for him, you pulled your cloak over yourself more, at least thankful there was less wind inside the halls of the castle compared to outside.

“Temeria reeks of secrets. I could sense them. Just like I could these bodies before we entered. I imagine you sensed them, too,” Triss said as she looked at the walls and floors of the hallway in front of Geralt. Glancing around her, you saw the bodies of the striga’s victims laying on the floor, a sight that was a bit unsettling to see so casually. Stopping before a picture of Foltest and a woman, Triss looked over it as you and Geralt stopped next to her. “Foltest and Adda. What happened to them?”

Looking over the picture, you cocked your head a bit, knowing that the young boy in the picture was Foltest, but unable to see the face of the king in the picture. You wondered if the stress of being royal had aged the man, something that you wanted to roll your eyes at. Glancing over to the girl in the picture, you wondered when the picture was painted, not knowing much about Adda besides her relation to Foltest, let alone her age when she was killed. She looked fairly young in the picture, so you assumed that she was killed long after she had been asked to sit for the painting.

“Not answering questions is a pillar of your brooding charm,” Triss said suddenly at Geralt as she turned herself a bit to look at the Witcher. Geralt merely looked at her for a long second before he turned himself to walk down the hall again.

“You get used to it, and you get used to talking to yourself a lot too,” you said to Triss as you quickly began to follow Geralt down the hall.

“Pretty sure Foltest is the father,” Geralt said quietly as he walked.

“Eugh, I was hoping that I was the only person thinking that… Sounds more probable now that someone else said it out loud,” Sticking your tongue out a bit, you turned a bit to watch Triss begin to follow you and Geralt again, her face contorted with a bit of disgust as she moved.

Geralt walked through the castle, his eyes seemingly searching for something as he wandered. He was walking with a purpose, and you wondered if the man had caught onto something as he began to ascend a set of stairs that lead deeper into the castle. Glancing at Triss as she and you followed the Witcher up the stairs, the woman seemed to also be searching around the area for something, though her searching seemed less purposeful than the Witcher’s in the moment.

Around the castle’s halls, dust and cobwebs covered every surface seen, and it looked like something or someone had gone around everywhere and purposely knocked down and destroyed most everything. You wondered if there was anything left in the halls that could have been used to uncover Adda’s murderer’s identity, but as Geralt passed by a few doors and stopped in front of one door, you had a feeling that Geralt thought there was still much left in the castle to find for the mystery. The Witcher slowly pushed open the door of the room, and inside was a messy looking bedroom, one not unlike how the remainder of the castle looked.

“Adda’s bedroom. Do you think he cursed her? Foltest?” Triss asked as she slowly moved into the room beside Geralt.

“Maybe.” Geralt, too, stepped into the room, his eyes still wandering around in search of something.

“To curse your…lover. Blegh, sounds awful saying that, with those two…” you muttered as you looked around the room, an uncomfortable feeling dwelling in you as you let your eyes wander over the extremely dusty and cobweb strewn room. Triss made her way to a dresser that sat opposite of the door, and you slowly made your way up to her as she gently ran her hand over the dust covered artifacts.

You were surprised at how well kept the remnants of the bedroom were, and how undisturbed the dresser was. Glancing around the room for a moment, you wondered if the room was left mostly alone in respect for the departed Adda. Turning back to the dresser top, you felt odd thinking about how someone could have respect for someone’s stuff but not enough respect to not curse her and kill her. There was something missing, you felt, and you hoped that you, Triss, and Geralt could find the clue that was needed to shed light on who Adda’s killer was.

Geralt moved away from you and Triss, toward the bed that sat in the center of the room, and you turned to see his face contort a bit. You wanted to ask what he was thinking about in the moment but as you saw the man stop and his nose scrunch a bit, you felt your face furrow a bit, now curious as to what he was smelling. Glancing down to the bed the Witcher was stood in front of, you jumped a bit at the sound of a sudden chime from a music box near you.

Turning away from Geralt and to Triss again, you saw the woman slowly turning the lever to a music box, one with 2 statuettes on top of the box that were spinning as music played around them. The tune it was playing was one that was unfamiliar to you, but it was quiet and soothing, just what you would have expected from a music box. Leaning over and watching, Triss slowly released the lever of the box and began to pull on some pieces that were protruding from the machine. Each wooden peg that was pulled played a chime from the music box and each made a different sound than the others. The sounds from the pegs shot a pain through your head each time they played a note, and you wondered why they sounded loud and more sharp than the notes from the music that was just playing. As the last of the pegs were pulled, a click from the bottom of the box was heard, and Triss released her hand on the box.

Leaning in closer to her, you watched as Triss slowly reached down and slid open a drawer that was on the bottom of the box. Inside the drawer was a lot of papers, some tied up in a ribbon and some just lying flat in the box drawer, and you cocked your head a bit as Triss picked up all the pages and began to unravel the ribbon on the top most one.

“Family documents?” you asked as Triss slowly ran her eyes over the first page.

“…Letters,” she answered as she slowly handed you one pages that was on top of the stack. “From Queen Sancia, Foltest’s and Adda’s mother.” Taking the page gently, you let your eyes skim over the slightly faded print.

“…Oh no.”

* * *

“A queen mother cursing her own children for their affair? This could destroy the throne,” Ostrit said as he plopped the letters down onto the desk he was stood in front of.

“Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child,” Geralt stated to Ostrit from where he stood near you, watching as the lord’s hands pressed firmly on the desk top as he leaned over the papers.

“Seems they refused. Repeatedly,” Triss said as she stood across the room. Glancing between her and Ostrit, you felt a bit unnerved about the situation. Unsure if it was your lingering headache that was causing the feeling, or the entire situation, you glanced over to Geralt for a moment. His face was strewn tight, his eyes focused directly at Ostrit, and as you glanced to king’s side man still at the desk, you felt your face tighten a bit too.

“And now she’s taken that curse with her to the grave,” Ostrit said quietly as he tapped his fingers lightly on the desk.

“You’ve served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?” Triss asked as Ostrit turned and glanced to her.

“No. Of course not,” Ostrit replied as he finally turned around completely to face the sorceress.

“What was your relationship to Adda?” Geralt asked to Ostrit. As the man turned and faced you and Geralt, you watched as he eyed the Witcher up and down slowly as he thought for a moment.

“Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant. And protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve,” Ostrit explained slowly, a soft fondness in his voice as he spoke. Crossing your arms over your chest, you leant back against the wall and sighed lightly, unsure of what to think of the situation.

“She ever mention her brother?” Geralt asked almost gently.

“Certainly not like this.”

“She was ashamed,” Triss said lightly, a bit of disgust and remorse present on her face.

“Or she was frightened.” Hearing the proposal, you lifted your head to look over Ostrit, his brow furrowed a bit. “What if the relationship was not… consensual?”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed lightly as he looked to the floor for a moment. “You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?” he asked as he looked over Ostrit slowly.

“Well, kings have certainly done more for less.”

“Humans have always been garbage, haven’t they…” you said quietly as felt your face scrunch a bit.

“True.” Geralt shifted slightly to your side, causing you to look up at the man, and as you saw his brow scrunch a bit, you quickly pulled yourself off of the wall. Hearing the sigh that left the man’s mouth, you stepped away from him and watched as he stepped toward Ostrit, his shoulders much more tense than they had been a moment prior. “There’ only one wrinkle, though,” he said as he stepped up to Ostrit, who had dawned a look of heavy confusion on his face at the sudden shift in tone. The Witcher stepped in close to the man’s personal space, and as you heard him sniff Ostrit up slowly, you tensed up and glanced at Triss who’s face had changed to a look of confusion that mirrored your own. “You scent was on her sheets.”

“Geralt!” Triss tried to step forward to the men, but you quickly moved to her side and put your arm in front of her, stopping her from proceeding. At the new angle, you could see the pure disgust that was present on Geralt’s face, and you felt your stomach grow heavy at the sight.

“That’s why you were…” you muttered lightly as you looked over Geralt and then Ostrit.

“Old ones… and new ones.”

“What would I be doing in a dead girl’s bed?” Ostrit asked, a bit of worry in his voice as he leant away from Geralt. Geralt didn’t recede, and he merely moved closer to the now frightened man.

“I smelled what you were doing.” As Geralt’s head stayed close to Ostrit’s, you could see the surge of fear that took over Ostrit’s body as Geralt spoke quietly to him, and the tension in the air grew heavy, almost stifling as you waited to someone to speak. Gulping and glancing back at Triss for a moment, you saw her expression change quickly to one of disgust. Ostrit didn’t say anything to Geralt as the Witcher withdrew, the man’s expression merely shifting from one of pure fear to one that was a combination of disgust and sadness. The man glanced around Geralt to you and Triss, and you merely glared at him for a moment, something that caused his expression to change to raw anger quickly.

“Foltest had no right!” He yelled out suddenly. “He seduced Adda! Abused his position!” Turning away from Ostrit, Geralt moved to stand by you as you lowered your arm finally. “He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn’t love her. I did!” Geralt’s expression changed slowly to a softer one as he moved and faced Ostrit again. You felt your fists tighten as Ostrit spoke, and you couldn’t stop your glare from hardening as you eyed the man up and down slowly.

“You cursed the woman you loved?” Triss asked, disgust heavy in her voice.

“I cursed Foltest, not her.”

“Countless are dead because of _your_ jealousy.”

“A child is cursed and suffering because of you, you scum!” you barked at the man as you stepped forward a step. Geralt quickly caught your shoulder, but you merely shrugged him off as you conceded to stop moving. Your jaw clenched in anger tightly as you stood before the man, and pain shot through your head from the pressure building, but you didn’t care as your anger was overpowering the pain.

“Countless are dead because of Foltest! He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face,” Ostrit said loudly. You felt disgusted at the man, your fists still clenched tight as you listened to the man try to justify himself, and another bit of pang shot through your head as you ground your teeth a bit.

“If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair,” Triss said to him.

“And hurt Adda? Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I’m alive to protect it.” Hearing the soft fondness in his voice again, you wanted vomit, wanted to grab at him as he spoke, but you merely forced your fists and jaw to relax slowly instead.

“Oh, that can certainly be arranged…” you said quietly as you stepped toward the man again.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tell us how to lift the curse,” Geralt commanded at Ostrit. Ostrit looked between you and Geralt, his eyes shifting quickly as you stopped just in front of him, your angry face merely inches from his.

“No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me.” Hearing the words from his mouth, almost not believing what you were hearing, your fists and jaw clenched again, much more tightly than before. Ostrit gave you a stern look as you stared him down, and you had to physically force yourself to look away from him as you glanced back at Geralt.

“Hm.” Geralt nodded slightly, barely enough for you to see, but as he did, you turned back around and met eyes with Ostrit again, his brow furrowed tightly. You sighed lightly as the man looked over your face for a few moments, neither of you saying anything to the other. Bringing your fist up, the man glanced at it for a moment before you forced it into his cheek with all the strength you had. Ostrit quickly fell to the desk behind him, his body crashing into it and then sliding off and onto the floor. Stepping back a pace, you let your eyes wander over the unconscious man slowly, looking for signs of movement. Seeing none, you spat at him.

“That’s enough,” Geralt said lightly as he knelt down next to Ostrit.

“…Scum. Picked a bad day to be scum,” you said as you shook out your hand slowly. “If I wasn’t still hungover, I probably wouldn’t have just broken something in his face.”

* * *

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Seeing Foltest’s men standing in front of the Castle’s entrance was the last thing you wanted to see. Already aggravated about having to carry the very heavy supplies around, you felt your headache throb again as you and Geralt stopped on the bridge to the castle as the armored men starred you down. Geralt pushed his hand out to you for a moment, and as his other drew his sword, he sighed lightly while the guards quickly pulled out their weapons and took stance just as he did. There was a tense second of silence in the air, and you looked to each of the men as they stared Geralt down in the moment where no one moved.

“Oh-so quick to violence,” said a voice from behind the men. Quickly the men dispersed, their weapons still drawn but their bodies moving aside to reveal Foltest walking toward you and Geralt. Shifting a bit, you felt an odd feeling in you at seeing the man again. “Strange, considering what Miss Merrigold told me about you.”

“And what’s that?” Geralt asked as the king stopped in front of his men.

“She told me…to trust you!” Foltest said, his voice a bit mocking as he motioned his arms around. A mocking chuckle came from the king, and you could see Geralt tense a bit at the display of distrust. Foltest’s face quickly changed from a laughing one to one of curiosity, however, and the man stepped forward slowly, stopping just in front of Geralt. “Will this work? Answer honestly,” he inquired quietly. You weren’t sure you would have been able to hear the king speak if you weren’t so close to Geralt and you doubted that any of the armed men could hear the man speak to the Witcher. You wanted to step closer, to hear what Foltest had to say more clearly, but as you glanced to the uneasy men behind the king, you decided again moving.

“I don’t know,” Geralt answered quietly and truthfully.

“Will my…” Taking a second to form his words, Foltest licked his lips, his face shifting between concern and discomfort in the moment. “Will my daughter… be normal?”

“She’ll need special care. She’s lived as an animal. All she’s ever known is… rage and hunger.” Looking down to the floor, you saw Foltest’s face shift again to a look of sadness, and you felt a tinge of sympathy for the man as he thought. Geralt sighed lightly as Foltest looked up to him, and as the Witcher turned to you, he motioned for his bag. Shifting yourself a bit, you handed it to him slowly, curious as to what he was doing. He opened the small pocket on the side and pulled out a broach.

You knew of Geralt’s broach, knew that it was important to him, but the Witcher never explained its importance to you. You had asked only a few times about it, the few times you had seen it out of the bag it was normally kept in, but each time you asked about it brought a strange look to Geralt’s face. The man never answered you, he never even acknowledged that you had asked him a question as he quickly tried to put the broach away, and so you never pushed him about who’s broach it was or what importance it held.

Geralt paused a moment as he held the pendent in his hand, his thumb running over it softly, and you glanced up at him. He lightly sighed as he looked over the broach, and then to the distance past the castle bridge. You followed his gaze, but slowly brought it back to him when he shifted to move back to Foltest.

“Geralt?” Watching as Geralt slowly handed the broach to Foltest, you tilted your head a bit, torn between wanting to ask again who’s broach it was or just leaving the question unasked. Reshifting Geralt’s bag over your shoulder again, you watched as Foltest gently took the broach from Geralt.

“What is this?” he asked as he slowly looked over the pendant with extreme curiosity. 

“For the princess. If I can lift the curse. A gift,” Geralt explained, his face soft as he spoke.

“…You’re giving me this because you do not expect to see morning,” Foltest said softly as he looked at Geralt and then to you. You slowly looked away from the king, and to the bridge’s side as you lightly sighed. Death wasn’t something you wanted, but it was always on the table when it came to a Witcher’s job. Geralt had explained that to you in the very beginning, made it very clear the risks of being around him. You merely accepted the risks however, feeling more comfortable and more safe around the Witcher than anywhere or anyone else in the world that you were in that wasn’t your own, even after he had taught you how to defend yourself.

“This isn’t my first time trying to save a princess who others see as a monster,” Geralt said quietly to Foltest.

“What happened to that princess?”

“I killed her.” There was a long moment of silence between the men, and as you glanced up from the bridge to look at them, you saw the soft and sad look on Foltest’s face and the unreadable expression on Geralt’s. Neither said anything as they looked at each other, but you knew what each was saying to the other as their eyes met. Foltest finally moved after what seemed like a long time, and he stepped closer to Geralt, his head moving closer to the Witcher’s ear. You weren’t able to hear what he was saying, and from where he stood, you were unable to see his lips or Geralt’s face.

“…I envy you. To live and never have to fall in love,” Foltest said when he finally moved back from Geralt. The king gently patted Geralt on the shoulder before he began to move passed the Witcher. His men followed, each of them avoiding you and Geralt with as much distance as they could as they crossed the bridge to head back to the winter castle. You sighed lightly as the last of the men finally stepped off of the stone, and you turned to look at Geralt.

“Alright, Mr. Cryptic. Let’s rock.”

* * *

“Witcher, this is madness! What are we doing here? What’s happening?” You took great pleasure in tying Ostrit up, something you weren’t sure you would have ever enjoyed before today, but as you tightened the rope on the man’s wrist and he yelped a bit from the harsh feeling, you felt quite pleased with yourself. Stepping away from him, you could see the pleading in Ostrit’s eyes, and you merely shook your head at him.

“How can I lift the curse?” Geralt asked from across the room, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he looked outside at the falling snow.

“No, this is not right! Foltest must pay for what he did!” Ostrit said as he struggled against his bindings.

“Explain that to her.”

“Carry me out! I order you!” Struggling more against his bindings, Ostrit grew desperate and looked toward you. Turning your head away, you looked over to Geralt who was slowly turning to look toward the bound man.

“Tell me how to lift the curse,” Geralt said simply. There was a long second of silence as Ostrit considered his options. His hands reached and grabbed at the ropes that bound them, and he tried to tug at them for a second. Feeling no give, the man released his hold and shifted his eyes between you and Geralt for a few moments as he tried to decide what to do.

“She-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb. She-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it,” Ostrist began to explain, desperation completely coating his voice as he spoke. Geralt knelt down to be at the man’s level as he spoke, and you watched as the Witcher’s face slowly furrowed as the desperate man spoke. “And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb’s blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear! Now please let us leave.” Hearing the pleading from the man, you turned and looked down at him, his face contorted in extreme fear as his eyes flew between you and Geralt quickly again.

“What was the chant?” Geralt asked after a moment, his voice as heavy as his face in the moment.

“It was years ago. It was elven. Um…” Ostrit moved his head around as he glanced around the room, his eyes quickly shooting between different objects as he thought hard. “What-what was it?” Looking down and grabbing hold of the ropes near his wrists, the man began to sputter out words in elder, words that you were unable to understand as he spoke and words that made Geralt’s eyes widen. The man shot up quickly and moved to the supplies you had set down near the dresser as Ostrit finished speaking.

“Geralt?” Turning quickly to watch, Geralt grabbed his small bag and about ripped it open, quickly pushing his hand inside in search of something.

“The- I-I’ve done what you’ve asked! What more can I do?” Ostrit pleaded from the ground as he too watched Geralt. Stepping closer to the Witcher, you saw the potion the man pulled out and held in front of himself. Gulping a bit, the man glanced at you for a moment before he looked over to Ostrit with a glare.

“Nothing, unless you can keep a striga out of her crypt until the fucking rooster crows three times.” Geralt had been cruel to people before, cruel to people who deserved it from their actions and crimes they had committed against fellow humans, but you had never heard the extreme bitterness in his voice as he spat at Ostrit, and you shivered a bit from the tone.

Geralt once again glanced at you, his lips speaking no words to you as his eyes showed you the combination of desperation and determination the man held inside himself, knowing full well what could happen in the follow hours. Grabbing the bag of supplies that was placed near you, you refused to remove your eyes from Geralt’s, wanting to show him the same feelings he was showing to you in the moment, and you stepped toward the man slowly. Neither of you said anything for a second as you stopped near him, your free hand coming up and resting on the Witcher’s shoulder gently, and it was only when a gasp of breath and words came from Ostrit that you both broke eye contact with Geralt as the man began to drink the entire potion in his hand.

“You’re gonna have to fight her till dawn…”

* * *

As the moon shone high in the sky and as the snow refused to cease its falling, the scrapping of stone onto stone echoed through the castle, and you couldn’t help but turn to face the entrance to the bedroom as the noise bounced around. Geralt, too, looked, and his face furrowed a bit at the noise. He stared toward the entrance for a few moments before he began to slowly walk toward it. Glancing back at Ostrit for a second, you huffed and then began to follow the Witcher.

“No. No. Come back here! Please. Please!” Ostrit pleaded as you and Geralt left the bedroom. “You’d leave a man bound to die in such indignity?” Hearing the man speak, if the situation were any different and the tension and fear wasn’t so thick in the air, you would have laughed at him and his horrible sense of irony, but you kept your lips shut tight as you and Geralt turned down the hall.

“You’re not a man,” Geralt spat out quietly as he walked. He turned to you and looked down at you as he walked, his eyes and surrounding skin black as the sky that was laying as the backdrop for the castle. “It is your time to leave,” he said as he looked over your face slowly.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen Geralt’s eyes and skin turn black from one of his potions, but you wondered if it’d be the last time. The first time you had seen the change was a surprise and happened during a circumstance you still regretted to the day.

It wasn’t long after you had first appeared in the world, and you were still getting used to everything (the people, the monsters, Geralt’s sense of humor whenever he’d let it show) when Geralt had gotten an inn room in a town somewhere, and had told you to stay behind as he went off to complete a job. You didn’t want to listen to him, sick of being stuck in random rooms and not able to help or do anything as the Witcher went off to hunt, sometimes for days on end.

And so you had waited for the man to leave before you went to the person who had hired him and asked where the Witcher was off to. The person was hesitant to tell you, but you charmed them into telling them where the monster was. As soon as you knew, you ran off to the place and to find Geralt, to help or to watch, you weren’t sure when you had started moving.

It was raining when you had arrived at the swamp, and you were drenched as you drug yourself through the wetlands, your pants and boots waterlogged and slogging through the deep waters. You were glad you had brought your cloak to find the Witcher, as it held off at least some of the rain from your face, but as a large splash of water appeared in front of you suddenly, one that was taller than you were, you were thrown back into the swamp’s water and were quickly overtaken under the water by something strong.

You weren’t sure what had happened immediately after you had been thrown back, your memory splotchy and in pieces from the day, whether from the fear and adrenaline that was coursing through you or from the lack of oxygen from when you had remained under the water for too long you weren’t sure, but you did remember being pulled from the swamp and onto solid land, a strong arm having taken hold of your back as it drug you. The first thing you had seen when your face was cleared of the mud and swamp plants was the struggling form of a monster, one you’d later learn was called a kikimora, trying to make its way toward you. It struggled as it was missing many of its arms and legs, and it was doing little more than shuffling its way toward you while making loud screeching noises, but the sight was enough to make dread run through your entire being.

You had tried to run away from the beast, but your arms and legs did little more than push water around on the ground while you tried to push up to stranding, and the hand that was holding you had to lift you and push you further away from the monster. You finally looked at who the hand was attached to, and the sight of Geralt, his eyes black as a void and his skin more pale than you thought possible for a living being, froze you in place as the rain slowly washed off pieces of mud from your clothing as you sat. He was angry, and his face was covered in small cuts that were bleeding lightly down his cheeks. His hand had let go of you completely before the man turned back to the monster and raised his sword again.

The kikimora was only alive for a little bit longer, and it was when Geralt cut the head off of the beast that you were able to finally raise yourself to standing, fear no longer the prominent emotion coursing through you. The Witcher hadn’t said anything as he turned back to look at you, but the anger and frustration in his eyes had told you everything you needed to know as you had waited patiently for the man to walk toward you on more solid land.

The walk back to the inn was more quiet than you had hoped it would be, and it was only the sound of you sniffing that had broken the tense silence as you walked behind Geralt. The Witcher didn’t hesitate to look back at you, his eyes still blackened around, but softened as he looked over your crying form. Although he was carrying the head of the kikimora in his left hand, he had extended his right arm to you only a moment after he saw you crying beneath your soaked cloak. You hadn’t hesitated for a single moment and quickly jogged up to him, your arms curling around him as you seemingly attempted to attach yourself to the man with how hard you had grabbed on.

Tension had spread through the entirety of Geralt the moment you had touched him, almost like he was surprised that you had accepted a hug, but it had quickly disappeared soon after. You never brought up why he had tensed at your touch, but you had always wondered secretly what made him tense up, whether it was you or the hug.

“No, it’s not,” you said simply. “What’s important to you is important to me. You’ve kept me safe, protected me, and I’m going to be there to protect you and what’s important to you.” Taking your bag off of your shoulder, you gently let it fall to the ground as you smiled gently at Geralt. “Now.” Slowly kneeling down and opening your bag, you pulled out the long silver chain that was inside and gently handed it to the Witcher. “Let’s get ready.”

* * *

You could hear the striga walking down the hall from far away, her footsteps heavy on the stone floor stairs as she moved closer to where you and Geralt stood behind the corner of the stair well she was descending. The Witcher tossed you a look, and you nodded lightly at him as you tightened your hold on your shield. You inhaled lightly as Geralt moved to walk around the corner and you stepped after him, turning quickly so your back was to Geralt and so that you could see the beast standing on top of one of the platforms in the stairwell. She screeched as she saw you and Geralt, a noise that sent a sharp pang through your head as you stared her down.

Glance to the side, you watched and heard as Geralt began to spin the silver chain in his hands, its end hitting the ground repeatedly as he swung it. After a few hits on the ground, Geralt lunged forward and released his hold on the chain, sending it flying at and around the striga. He pulled it tight quickly as it made contact around the beast, and the chain pulled taut around the her as she screeched loudly. You watched as the silver that touched her skin burned it, small wisps of smoke rising up from all over as the cord held her still.

The chain didn’t hold her for long, however, and she quickly broke through the silver, the individual pieces of broken metal flying wherever around the hall, something that caused you and Geralt to take a step back at.

“Fuck.” “Oh, fuck!”

The striga lunged at you and Geralt from a top the platform, and you tried to move forward quickly to duck under her, but Geralt’s hand met your shoulder too quickly and he pushed you to the side just before the monster landed on top of him. You stumbled for a few seconds, your eyes wide and seeing the man wrestling with the striga on the ground as you found your footing. Once you did, however, you pushed off the ground hard right at the striga with your shield raised high, and you pushed the beast off of the Witcher.

You tried to push forward on your shield as you made contact with the striga, tried to push yourself away from her, but you found that you were unable to do so at the angle you were falling and just accepted falling on top of her instead as you let go of the handle, hoping to be able to keep the cursed princess down while Geralt stood himself up. A hand quickly found its way to the back of your armor as you began to fall, however, and you felt yourself pulled back by Geralt as he struggled to get you and himself away from the striga. The beast screeched as she was on the floor, and swiftly threw your shield to the side with ease as she tried to roll herself back onto her feet.

The two of you stumbled back quickly, and you stumbled back a little farther than Geralt as you watched the striga finally jump to her feet. The beast screeched loudly again as she raised her arms, and she lunged at you and Geralt again, her claws coming down as she neared you. Geralt ducked under her reach, his arms coming up to grab onto her wrists as he neared the ground, and you quickly lunged forward as the striga was momentarily halted. You brought your foot up and kicked into the monster’s side, sending her flying back toward the stair well, and as she landed harshly on the ground, you pulled Geralt to standing by his hand.

The cursed princess didn’t stay on the ground, however, and as she rolled onto her front, she kicked off of the ground and flew to Geralt and you once more, claws raised high up once again. She collided with Geralt, who in turn collided into you. and sent you flying back from the pair as they began to wrestle again. You slid on the ground for a moment, and as you heard the frantic breaths of Geralt trying to fend off the monster, you scrambled your limbs around to quickly rise up to stand.

“Get down!!” Hearing the command, you quickly dropped down flat to the floor in reflex, used to listening to commands from the Witcher on the spot, and as you looked up toward the man, you saw the Striga fly above you and down the hall. Geralt quickly rose to his feet, and almost panickily ran over to you, his arm raising out and high as he moved closer to you as his other came down toward you. You spun around on the ground and grabbed onto Geralt’s extended hand that you used to raise to standing. The man pulled you harshly, however, and you stumbled at bit behind Geralt for a moment just as he cast Aard, and you watched as the force sent the striga farther down the hallway while you gained your footing again.

You were panting as the Witcher broke a torch off of the wall, and you glanced at him for a second before you turned your eyes back to the Striga. She was scrambling to get to her feet, and Geralt took the moment to look back at you. He saw your rapid breaths, and he cursed under his breath as he turned back to face the Striga once again. Only a moment later, the monster came after you and Geralt again, and you braced yourself to catch Geralt as you thought the monster was going straight for him. 

Geralt went to hit the beast in the head with the torch he held, but as the Striga ducked down and lunged off of the ground and at you, the Witcher and yourself were surprised and taken back by the sudden movement. You were knocked back by the monster, her claws attempting to rip your armor apart as she struck. Your armor held strong, however, and you were only pushed back by the monster, but as you flew away from where Geralt was, you weren’t able to stop yourself from slamming in the ground, your body and head colliding with the hard stone floor suddenly.

Your ears began to ring out loudly as soon as you hit the ground, and your head throbbed like it had never throbbed before as you laid dazedly on the ground. You tried to move your hands up to your head to cover your ears, to try to help the sound that was piercing through them, but you found that your arms weren’t wanting to cooperate with you in the moment and so you merely laid your arms over your chest lightly. You were unaware of what was happening around you in the moment, your vision fuzzy and blurring as you tried to focus on something, anything above you, but as you felt the earth shake around you, you knew you needed to get up, and fast.

You rolled yourself onto your side, your arm shaking as it supported your weight when you rose up, and you lulled your head to the side to look to where Geralt and the Striga just were. Gasping a bit at the sight of a large hole in the ground and the absence of either of the beings, you shakily tried to raise yourself up all the way. You rose to your feet slowly, and as you tried to stand all the way up, you found that you needed to support yourself on the wall to keep your knees from giving in and dropping you right back to the floor.

You carefully stepped toward to new fissure in the ground, your hand sliding against the wall as your arm braced you and kept you upright, and you felt pure fear running through your veins along side your adrenaline as the ringing in your ears refused to cease. Stopping at the edge of the hole, you glanced down below the floor, your eyes quickly catching sight of Geralt who was laying on top of the rubble from the collapsed floor and who was unmoving. You called out to the man, and despite you being unable to hear your own words, you tried to listen for any shifting from the man.

He did not move, however, and you cursed as you slowly slid down to sitting with the help of the wall before you carefully threw your legs over the edge to dangle into the hole. You took a deep breath in as you steadied your hands on the crumbling and unstable ground, and for a moment you felt a bit of hesitation as you tried to shuffle forward. Cursing loudly, you surged forward and dropped into the hole.

Your legs crumbled on impact with the floor, but your arms flew forward to catch you before your body and head again collided with the stone again. Uncaring for the pain in your legs, you pulled yourself forward to Geralt, and quickly grabbed onto the man’s face.

“Geralt!” you called out to the man. “Geralt, wake up!” you gently patted the man on the cheek as you called out his name, hoping to rouse him from his unconscious state. Realizing that you were finally able to hear your own voice again, you quieted down quickly, only to tense up at the sound of loud breathing coming from nearby. Releasing Geralt and quickly spinning around, you met eyes with the striga who was sitting on the floor only a couple of paces away from you.

She shrieked as soon as she met your eye, and as the noise pierced your ears you moved yourself to standing and then to running as quickly as possible on instinct. You weren’t even thinking as you ran, your body just moving on its own to gain distance between you and the monster that was now chasing you down the hallway. You turned around a bit to confirm that the beast was following you, unsure if you were relieved or more terrified at the sight, but you kept on running. You listened to the footsteps of the striga, making sure that the sound was never too far away from you as you ran through the castle. You tried to knock down as many things into the monster’s path as possible as you ran, and you soon found yourself running the same loop on the ground floor, the obstacles you had placed for the striga now obstacles for you to jump over as you lapped the castle.

You weren’t sure for how long you ran, but your legs felt the pain building in them the entire time, your head’s pain still pounding from its meeting with the ground, and you finally collapsed onto the floor as your energy finally ran out and the pain was too much to handle. You barely had it in you to spin around and face the striga, but as she neared you, you let out shaky breaths as you tried to catch your breath once again. The striga was only a few paces away from you when you decided to close your eyes, an action you did not want to do but did on a scared reflex from your approaching death.

A loud thud caused you to open your eyes quickly, and you watched as Geralt tried to pin the striga to the wall near you. The man and beast wrestled for a moment, the monster still not showing any signs of slowing down as it kept match with the Witcher. It was only when the first peaks of morning light shone through a nearby window that the grapple ended as the striga pushed forward from the wall with all her might and threw Geralt off. The man fell to the ground, and the Striga turned to face past you. Glancing behind you, you saw her tomb, Adda’s tomb, as her target, and you flung yourself back around to meet eyes with the beast again.

“Geralt!!” You weren’t sure where your energy came from, or how you were even moving in the moment, but you pushed yourself off of the ground and into the striga, your arms quickly going around the beast and tackling her to the ground before she could move past you. Your head knocked against the beast as the two of you hit the ground, and as you heard the sound of footsteps growing farther and farther away, you tried to hold on tightly to the monster under you.

The striga had the upper hand, however, and quickly grabbed ahold of you and launched you off of her with ease. You landed on your side and rolled a few feet, groaning at the impact on your body on the stone until you stopped nearby. You weren’t able to hear the striga moving, and it wasn’t until she was at the now sealed tomb that you realized how close you and Geralt were to lifting the curse.

Placing your hands on the ground, your pressed yourself up slowly and shakily, your eyes locked on the monster before you. You pushed yourself to standing again and stumbled toward the screeching beast as she tried to pull the lid off of her tomb. The striga paid you no mind as your legs struggled to take you to her, and her screeching was piercing your ears still. Your head hurt worse than it ever had before, its pain spreading throughout your entire body and into every corner it could with each pang that came from your head, and your legs felt a throb of pain that you felt down to your bones each time your feet would meet the ground. As you neared her, the cries that were coming from the monster only caused more pain in your head, and you only felt the need to make her stop making noise as your head pounded loud and fierce.

Stepping right up behind the beast, you reached out to her without thinking, and as you grabbed onto her firmly, a feeling burst through you, one that emanated from your core. It was a feeling that you had never felt before, one that felt dense in your chest and spread out to all corners of your body, its feeling changing to a numb tingling as it reached the far corners. You weren’t sure how you had even made it over to the striga without collapsing, but as the feeling hit you, you pulled the last bits of energy you had in you to pull the beast from the top of her tomb and yanked her back.

As you pulled the monster down from her place, you felt a surge of force run through your arm, and you quickly released the screeching beast as you threw her behind you. You turned just in time to watch the beast go flying, along with different pieces of rubble that were sitting around the room, a wave of force not unlike one you had seen from Geralt earlier in the day pushing them all away from where you stood. The striga landed against the far wall with a loud thud, and the pieces of rubble that went flying with her landed around her as she crumbled into the floor. Just as sudden as the feeling had appeared in your core, it was gone a moment later, and you felt your knees buckle as there was finally nothing left in you to keep yourself upright.

“What did you just do!?” you heard Geralt yell out from inside the tomb. You didn’t have the energy to respond, and you merely lowered yourself to the ground with the help of the sturdy tomb as you tried to catch your breath. “Hey!!”

“Mother…fucker! Just trust me, goddamnit!” you finally yelled out after a few moments of harsh breathing. The peaks of morning slowly flooded into the room, and you watched as the striga began to scream and contort in place from where she was across the room on the floor, her skin sizzling as the light of the sun covered the room completely. You barely had the energy to keep your eyes open despite very much wanting to do so, and so you resolved to slowly laying yourself onto the nice cool stone floor, your cheek pressing into it lightly as you felt your vision fade away completely.

You bolted up to sitting the moment you heard Geralt cry out, the sound strange and unfamiliar to you. Turning toward the sound, you watched as the Witcher fell to the ground in front of a child, one who was covered in grime and muck and who looked absolutely mortified.

“Geralt!!” Stumbling up and running to Geralt, your knees again gave out and you slid down to the man’s side quickly. Reaching down, you looked at the wound on his shoulder, and quickly pressed your hand into it. “Dammit!” you cursed as blood rushed over your fingers. Your attention was only brought away from the wound by the sound of a growl, and as you looked up, you found that the growl was coming from the girl who sat, very naked, near you. “Oh, oh boy…”

“Hey…Hey there princess. How are you…How do you feel?” You felt a little ridiculous asking the princess how she felt in the moment, knowing full well that she couldn’t understand you at all, but you were unsure what to do in the moment as you held Geralt and continued to keep your eyes on the child. She merely stared you down and continued growling from her place, and you were very glad she wasn’t moving toward you. “Do you…Are you hungry?”

Reaching slowly into your small bag, you pulled out a small piece of dried meat, one you had been keeping as a snack for when you were bored. Hesitantly tossing it toward the child, the girl watched fearfully as the meat landed near her. She, too, hesitantly moved, but as she took the snack from the ground and began to eat it slowly, you felt a bit of relief hit you at the sight.

“Are we…are we friends now then?” you asked quietly as the girl continued to eat. She merely growled at you again, and you sighed lightly at the sound as you pressed both your hands into Geralt’s wound. “Baby steps, I guess…”

“Hello?” Hearing the sudden voice from above, you hesitantly removed your eyes from the child and looked around, hoping to see the source of the voice.

“Hey! Down here!!” you yelled out to whomever the voice belonged to.

“What’s happened?” the voice asked from above. You were finally able to recognize the voice, its clarity getting better the louder it got, and you grinned a bit. “Witcher’s companion, is that you?”

“Segelin! I fucking…I have a name!” you yelled out. Hearing more growling from the angry looking child before you, you clenched down on Geralt’s wound more, hissing as your arm protested the tension. “I hope you brought help with you!” As you shifted in place to look around the room to where Segelin was peeking through the hole in the floor, you heard the princess move a little bit in place and you tensed up a bit. “A lot of help!!”

* * *

“Good morning sunshine. You look well,” you grinned at Geralt as the man emerged from the healing wing of the castle. He was covered in wraps and bruises, looking not unlike yourself as you sat on the ledge of a large window. Glancing down at a wrap that covered your arm, you were grateful to Triss and her healing abilities. She had finally been able to give you something for your headache, which you were starting to fear would last forever given how much your head had been knocked on in the past day, but when you downed the potion she gave you, it vanished completely and you almost felt like such a new person that you almost vowed to never drink again. Almost.

“What’s happened in the castle?” Geralt asked quietly as he leaned against the wall near you.

“Foltest is ecstatic to say the least,” you explained as you turned and faced the Witcher. You watched as the man began to pull his hair back and into his usual half-up style, his movements more slow and stiff than usual from his injuries. “At least, he was after his men managed to wrangle his kid back to the castle anyway. It was kind of touchy until she calmed down and stopped trying to bite everyone who got near her, you see.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“He asked why we’d risk our asses for his kid when Triss was patching me up. I told him about Roach, about why we stuck around even after coin was off of the table,” you explained as you kicked your legs slowly in the air. “Don’t worry, I told him it was because I was insistent on staying, so you don’t have to worry about anyone thinking you’ve gone soft,” You couldn’t help but grin a bit as you spoke, feeling pleasantly warm in the moment as you looked over Geralt.

“Hm.” The witcher smiled back a rare, genuine smile, and the sight of it made you smile wider.

“They extended an invitation to us to attend Ostrit’s…ah, vigil was it? I declined, and I told Foltest to expect a similar answer from you,” you said as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor.

“I think he’ll get his answer when I don’t show up.”

“For sure. Let’s go get Roach then. Do you think she’ll be less mad at us if we explain to her what happened here?” Looking over the man’s face, he gave you a soft expression, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as the man simply began to walk away from you. Walking was the last thing you wanted to do, as even though your headache was gone, the remainder of your body hurt worse from the events of the previous night. You smiled as you walked though, the pain a welcome one as you and Geralt slowly walked out of Temeria to where Roach was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've written up this beast of a chapter, I wanted to ask (cause I've been debating this for a bit now): shorter, more frequent chapters with a definite number of chapters in the story, or longer, less frequent chapters with an unknown amount of chapters? Let me know which you'd like. I'm totally fine with posting a 10k+ chapter, but I want to make sure people are fine with waiting cause these chapters can take upwards of 3-4 weeks to write. Or if you'd rather have shorter chapters posted every week or so where a little less is happening, I'm fine with that too! I could get a schedule going, or something.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my completely self-indulgent bullshit! This story goes through the whole of The Witcher, and the first chapter has a hint in it as to where in the timeline reader appears. Updates are sporadic, but each chapter is probably always going to be more than 4k words. I take smaller requests on my tumblr (ashenious) that can fit between times in this story so send them my way if you have any.


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